Lost and Found
by phoenixqueen
Summary: Charles Xavier has always treated his students like his own children to make up for all the losses in his life. When a strange disturbance registers on Cerebro, he gets a chance to reclaim someone he loved and lost. X-Over with X-Men: Evolution. Slight AU
1. Prologue: From Death Comes Life

**Lost and Found**

_**Disclaimer**__: I own nothing in this story! All references to _Buffy the Vampire Slayer _belong to Joss Whedon. All references to _X-Men: Evolution _belong to Stan Lee, I guess, since he's the creator of the original X-Men. I intend no infringement with this story; I am simply letting my plot bunnies out to play._

_**Summary**__: Professor Charles Xavier has always treated his students like they were his own children, to make up for the losses in his own life. When a strange disturbance registers on Cerebro, he gets the chance to reclaim someone he loved and lost. Extremely AU!_

_**Rating: **__FR-15, I suppose, for violence and some language._

_**Timeline: **__Somewhere in season one of X-Men Evolution, after Rogue joins the team, and near the end of Season Three of Buffy. There will also be multiple flashbacks to times before both series begin._

_**Author's Note: **__In writing this story, I have tried to stay as true to life and the X-Men comic books, as well as the show, as I can. However, in order to make these two universes gel properly, I have had to make some adjustments for artistic license. Most of these adjustments will be to Professor Xavier's back-story. So to anyone who is a die-hard X-Men fan, please do not be offended!_

_**Prologue: From Death Comes Life**_

_Love, to thee my thoughts are turning  
All through the night__  
All for thee my heart is yearning, __  
All through the night._

_Bayville, New York , November 19, 1981 – Bayville Hospital_

If he could be in there with her, he would be. He cursed his disability and the wheelchair that prevented him from being at her side. _Lizzie..._

Charles wished that he could pace. Hell, he wished that he could walk to Lizzie's side and be with her, holding her hand, murmuring reassurances to her. But because he was confined to a wheelchair and because of the delicate nature of the procedure, he couldn't be with her when she needed him most. He couldn't even reach out to her with his telepathy and let her know that he was with her that way, because the doctors had her so heavily drugged.

He glanced at the clock mounted on the wall of the waiting room for the umpteenth time. _What is taking so long?_ he wondered to himself, not for the first time. It seemed that he had been here forever, but hardly any time had passed.

He tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair impatiently as he tried to rein in his worry and his fear. Everything had seemed to be going so well for the last few months. He had Lizzie and they were together and happy and everything had been perfect. He should have known that it couldn't last, but even the recent loss of his ability to walk hadn't overly dampened their happiness. It had all changed a few short hours ago.

_Was that all?_ he wondered. _Just a few hours ago, everything was perfect? Why must everything change so quickly?_

Lizzie had woken him up early this morning, screaming in pain. He had soothed her with his power, taking some of her pain into himself to try to help her as he rushed her to the hospital in their specially modified van. He had called ahead to the hospital and to Lizzie's doctor to let them know that they were on their way. As a result, he had barely pulled the van to a stop before the doctors were there, rushing Lizzie into an examination room. He'd parked the van before entering the hospital and being directed to the ER waiting room.

Fortunately it had only been a few minutes before Lizzie's doctor had emerged from the ER looking for him. The expression on her face had spoken volumes to him before she even said a word.

"_Hello Charles."_

"_Susan…how is she?" he asked, looking up at the tall, elegant woman, whose long brown hair was neatly braided up out of the way, her dark brown eyes reflecting her concern._

_Susan shook her head. "Not good, Charles. She's gone into premature labor. We can't stop the contractions."_

_He knew he paled at that news. Lizzie was only seven months along. "Why? Everything was going fine at her last check-up!"_

"_We don't know Charles." Susan replied._

"_What are the options?" Charles asked, swallowing back his fear._

"_All we can really do is let the baby come and then try to figure out why she went into labor so soon," Susan responded. "Charles, Lizzie is in a lot of pain, even with the medications we've given her. It would be easier on her and the baby if we went ahead and performed a caesarian section."_

"_What are the risks?"_

"_It's hard to say without knowing why she went into labor so soon. Fortunately, she was seven months along, which will give the baby a higher chance of survival than if she was…say…five months along." The doctor sighed. "Until the baby is born, we just won't know for sure." Susan speared him with a Look. "Charles, we need your approval to go ahead with the caesarian. We have Lizzie too heavily drugged to give us permission."_

_He nodded. "Of course."_

_As Susan turned to leave, he reached out and caught her hand. "Help her, Susan. Please."_

_She gave him a sympathetic look. "I will, Charles. I'll do everything I possibly can for her. You have my word. We're going to move her to the delivery rooms. I'll send a nurse to come and take you up to the waiting room upstairs."_

Now he waited. Too long, and yet not long enough, he waited for word. He was anxious and he feared greatly for Lizzie and the baby. She had been having such a good pregnancy so far, and there had been no signs of anything wrong at her last appointment just a week ago. There were no indicators.

_What went wrong?_

Intellectually, he knew he should call Lizzie's parents, let them know what was going on. They were in Toronto, and it would take time for them to get down here, but he knew they would want to know. But all he could think of was Lizzie.

Lizzie had never been as strong, physically, as some of the other women that he had known, but Susan had said there would be little risk in her bringing the baby full term. They'd been keeping a close eye on her just to be safe, but Lizzie was young and in perfect health. She'd been doing everything that she'd been told to do, and she had simply blossomed over the last few months. Her face had been to radiant and excited, and her enthusiasm had been contagious.

The double doors leading to the delivery room swung open just then and Susan stepped into the waiting room. Her surgical greens were smeared with blood and she looked tired, but that was not what arrested Charles' gaze and sent a thrill of fear down his spine like ice. It was the sadness in her eyes.

"Charles, congratulations. You have a daughter," Susan told him quietly as she came up next to where he was sitting. Her voice was soft and displayed none of the joy that such news should have brought.

He swallowed nervously. "Lizzie?"

Before she could say it, he knew.

"She didn't make it Charles. I'm so sorry. She was bleeding internally and she lost too much blood before we could even start the procedure. We tried, but we couldn't stop the bleeding." Susan laid a hand on his shoulder. "We tried, Charles."

"No."

One word, spoken so softly. Who knew that one word could echo in his heart and mind so poignantly? A word of denial, of not wanting to accept what he had been told. _It isn't true! It can't be true!_ he thought frantically. Reaching out with his telepathy he desperately sought the one mind that he knew as well as his own, and one he could find anywhere on the planet with ease.

_**Lizzie? Dear heart, please answer me!**_

His search met only blankness. Where he had once been able to reach out and touch her bright, shining mind with little effort, now there was only a cold, empty darkness. _**Lizzie!**_

"Charles?"

_Susan…_her hand was still on his shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. He tried to pull himself back to attention, but his heart was breaking. _Sweet, beautiful Lizzie_…with her soft golden hair and sparkling, mischievous green eyes, whose petite form could fit into his lap with ease. She had been perfect in every way that mattered, and had done more for him than he could possibly have dreamed when he first met her.

She had stood by him through everything, though all the pain of learning that he would never walk again, the anger and frustration that he had felt at his new limitations, the intense, painful physical therapy. She had been the one who had come up with the plans to change their home to accommodate his wheelchair and she had executed those plans so that everything was finished and ready for him when he came home for the first time after the accident. She was the one who had convinced him that their life together wasn't going to end just because he could no longer walk. And then, finding out that she was pregnant, that a new chapter in their lives was beginning, watching her blossom…it had made him believe that everything would work out for the best.

He forced himself to focus on the doctor and not on his memories. "My daughter? Will she live?" If he lost Lizzie and his daughter all at once…

"It's too soon to tell for sure, Charles. She was breathing when she was born, and as far as we can tell, there weren't any complications from the premature birth, but she is very small and very weak. We have her in an incubator with oxygen and we're monitoring her very closely. She's been moved to the Neonatal ICU. The next few days are going to be the most critical. Her chances of survival will increase with each day, but she _is_ premature, and other complications could still arise."

He nodded, understanding what Susan told him intellectually, but not wanting to accept it emotionally. To do so would mean to accept the fact that he still might lose his daughter. "May I see her?"

She smiled sadly at him. "Of course Charles. Come with me."

_Though sad fate our lives may sever  
Parting will not last forever, __  
There's a hope that leaves me never, __  
All through the night._

_Two months later…Xavier Mansion…1407 Greymalkin Lane, Bayville, New York_

He steered his chair up the ramp to the door with the utmost care and attention. One arm held his daughter, carefully bundled up against the cold winter air, while he maneuvered his chair with the other hand. Reaching to the control panel on the arm of the chair he pressed a button and the door opened automatically. That had been Lizzie's idea, he remembered with a pang, but he had never been as grateful for it as he was now.

"Welcome home, my love," he spoke aloud, gazing down at the sleeping face of his precious, precious burden.

She stirred ever so slightly, but did not wake. He smiled at her, thankful that she was alive. Lizzie would have been happy to know that their child had survived, even if she'd had to give her life to make it happen.

"_Charles?"_ _Susan McGee stepped up next to him. He glanced up at her from where he was seated next to the incubator that held the tiny form of his daughter. It had been two long weeks since Lizzie's death. Somehow he'd managed to contact Lizzie's parents with the news of their only child's death and the birth of their grand-daughter. Somehow he'd managed to arrange Lizzie's funeral and memorial service, and somehow he'd made it through the funeral, watching as his Lizzie was laid to rest in the small family cemetery at the back of his property, next to his parents. All the while, however, he had feared for his daughter's life._

"_I just spoke to the pediatricians that are monitoring your daughter's case, Charles. I have good news. They just got the latest batch of test results back and it looks like she's going to make it. There are no abnormalities in her blood work, and all the tests we ran came back clean. She _is_ still underdeveloped, and we'll be keeping her here for at least another month, but she's eating well and the premature birth doesn't seem to have caused any complications."_

_He stared up at Susan, who had been Lizzie's best friend her whole life. When they had found out the news of Lizzie's pregnancy, there had been no doubt in her mind about who her primary physician would be. "Thank you." He fought back tears of joy. His daughter would live._

_Susan laid a hand on his shoulder. "I will warn you Charles. Her struggles aren't over yet. Preemies are often more susceptible to illness and injury while they're young than full-term babies. Other problems may still show up as she gets older, and she may never be as strong, physically, as other children her age."_

_He nodded, returning his gaze to the tiny form of his daughter in the incubator. Her chest rose and fell, steadily but slowly. He didn't care. He would deal with any problems that might arise as they came. All that mattered was that she would live and that Lizzie's death was not in vain._

"_Charles, there's one more thing," the doctor continued, drawing his attention to her again. "I've filled out her birth certificate, but I need to know what her name is."_

"_We…we hadn't chosen one. Lizzie had liked the name Kathleen, but I didn't agree," he replied quietly. He hadn't chosen a name for his daughter yet, because, somewhere, deep in the most emotional part of his psyche, he had been afraid that if he gave her a name before knowing for sure that she would live, it would hurt all the more if she didn't make it._

_Susan smiled in understanding. "I'll let you think about it, then. Let me know when you've made a decision." She checked a few of the readouts on the side of the incubator and made some notes on the infant's chart, before turning to continue her rounds._

_His voice stopped her before she had left the room. "Elizabeth."_

_She turned back. "Charles?"_

_He looked back up at her as she returned to his side. "She'll be named after her mother. Lizzie's full name was Elizabeth Anna, so our daughter will be Elizabeth Anne Xavier."_

_Susan smiled warmly. "Lizzie would be proud, Charles."_

He reached down and caressed his daughter's cheek. She looked so much like her mother, with soft, wispy blonde hair and green eyes. She was still so tiny, but he didn't care. This was the last, most precious gift that his Lizzie had given him. _You would be proud, Lizzie. If you can see her, I hope that you know just how important she is to me. I'll protect her with everything I have…I promise._

It had been two long, wearying months, full of heartbreak and sorrow and incredible loss…but maybe now…maybe things were finally looking up. He had his daughter, and she had him. What more did he really need? He smiled again. "My Elizabeth." Leaning down, he kissed her gently on the head.

_Hark, a solemn bell is ringing,  
Clear through the night;  
You, my love, are heav'nward winging,  
Home through the night.  
Earthly dust from off thee shaken,  
By good angels art thou taken;  
Soul immortal shalt thou waken,  
Home through the night.  
__-"All Through the Night" – Old Welsh Lullaby_


	2. Chapter 1: Retrieval

**Author's Note: Bonus chapter today folks! I'm in an especially good mood since tomorrow is my birthday, so I decided to treat all of you to the next chapter!**

_**Chapter One: Retrieval**_

_"How much more grevious are the consequences of anger than the causes of it."  
- Marcus Aurelius_

Somewhere, three months later…April 17, 1982

"Sir, I have the information that you requested," the aide approached his boss's desk holding a sheaf of papers. He offered them to his superior, who leaned forward and took them.

"You may go."

"Sir," the aide replied with a smart salute. He turned and left the office, closing the door behind himself.

Leaning back in his chair, the room's occupant turned his attention to the report that he had just been handed and began to flip through the pages, perusing the information closely. "Let me see…"

For a few minutes the room was quiet, save for the sound of paper rustling and the muttered comments coming from the man. "No. No. Too risky. Interesting, but not worth it. High probability, lots of potential here…"

He picked up a pen and made a note on the page he was holding, before setting it aside and turning to the next one. His eyes skimmed over the information before reaching one particular line. He sat up, startled, and reread the information. A slow, cold smile crossed his face. "Well, well…Charles Xavier…what a surprise." He made a note on the paper.

Reaching out, he picked up the handset of the phone and pressed a button on his speed dial. After a moment he spoke into the handset. "Have your men be ready for a briefing at 1600 hours." Abruptly he hung up. Leaning back in his chair, his smile widened and grew cruel as he remembered the last time that he had met Charles Xavier. "It's been a long time, Xavier. I am looking forward to this. Perhaps now I can finally settle our score."

He laid the paper on his desk and turned his attention to his computer, sitting on a table behind him. On the page that he had put down was a picture of two people smiling broadly for the camera, a pregnant blonde-haired woman with sparkling green eyes…and a bald man with blue eyes, sitting in a wheelchair. Next to the picture were several lines of text:

**Name: Elizabeth Anne Xavier  
Age: Five months  
Parents: Father – Charles Frances Xavier  
Mother – Elizabeth Anna Xavier** (deceased)**  
Last Known Location: Xavier Family Home, Bayville, New York  
Test Results: Positive**

And below that text, in the man's obsessively neat handwriting:

_**Target Identified. Operation to commence at 2330 hours. Objective: Secure subject for further testing.**_

* * *

_Xavier Family Home – One Week Later, April 23, 1982, 10:00 p.m._

The night wind blew gently, but steadily across the lawn of Charles' family mansion. Charles paused as he approached one of the large windows in the upstairs hallway. Something didn't feel right about tonight, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was. He had just put little Elizabeth back to bed after giving her a last feeding and she was again sleeping soundly. He sighed and continued down the hall towards his own room.

The first several weeks that Elizabeth had been home had been wearying on him. He'd put her cradle in his own room so that if she had any problems he'd sense it, and his worry for her had made his sleep restless. After the first month, he'd moved her cradle into the room next to his and placed a baby monitor on his nightstand so he'd hear her in the night and he'd slept much better. Since then, the last two months they'd gotten into a steady routine and everything had become much easier. As Susan had told him, each day brought a better chance that his Elizabeth would live a long, healthy life.

Finally passing off his unease as the result of a long day, Charles entered his own bedroom and prepared for bed. The security system had been set and the mansion was locked down, so it wouldn't be possible for anyone to break in without him knowing about it. He shook his head. _Why would someone want to break in? This is Bayville, not New York City._

With that he maneuvered his chair next to the bed and slid over from the chair to the soft mattress. Reaching over to his nightstand, he picked up the book he was currently engrossed in and settled down to read for a while.

Two hours later, he reached a reasonable stopping point and, after placing a bookmark in between the pages to hold his spot, laid the book on the end table. He adjusted the volume on the baby monitor, set his alarm clock to go off the next morning, and turned off the lights, sliding painfully down to a prone position.

Reaching out with his telepathy, he touched his daughter's mind with a gentle caress, finding her to be sound asleep. He smiled in the darkness before withdrawing his powers and settling down to sleep.

* * *

_Same Night, 4:00 a.m._

He paused outside the gates of the large mansion. His keen night vision swept across the visible lawn, looking carefully for any trip wires or sensor pads that were rigged to the alarm. Nothing.

Reaching up, he touched the small device on his left temple, flicking a tiny switch that activated it with a quiet hum, before going soundless. His benefactor had insisted that he wear this device when he entered tonight. This operation was to be clean and quiet. No blood, no bodies, no damage. Just in and out.

According to his orders, the man who lived inside this mansion was a powerful telepath, and he would sense any intruders without the device, which would mask his thoughts and keep him undetected, provided that he didn't trip an alarm.

Taking one last glance at his target, he took two steps to the side of the gate and several steps backward to get a running start. Running forward, he leapt for the wall and caught the edge with his gloved hands.

Pulling himself up and over, he landed silently on the grass. He crouched there, in the shadows beneath the wall, looking for any signs that he'd tripped an alarm. Still nothing.

Rising to his feet like a shadow himself, he began to sprint towards the mansion, staying on the grass in order to mask the sounds of his footfalls. It took only moments for him to cross the wide expanse of the lawn and press himself up against the shadows at the side of the house. He paused again, listening. No sign that he had been detected.

Edging along the side of the house, he checked one of the ground floor windows. Locked, and wired. He could see the sensor that would trip if the window were opened. Frowning, he stepped back slightly, considering. It was likely that all the windows would be equally wired, and he certainly wouldn't try the doors. That left one option, and his personal favorite, actually.

He moved along to the back of the house, grateful that he'd studied the intelligence that the others in his team had acquired over the course of the past week. He knew every detail of this house, including where to find his target inside the house. As he came to the back of the house, he smiled to see the sturdy trellis with the climbing roses winding their way up the back of the house to the roof.

Quickly grasping the trellis, he climbed up smoothly and quickly, ending on the roof. Moving silently, he crossed the slanting roof to a level area where the access to the duct work vented outside. Pulling out his favorite utility tool, he removed the screws securing the duct panel and set it aside. It was just wide enough for his compact frame.

He slipped inside, landing on the balls of his feet and slowly shifting into a crawling position, moving inch by inch so that there wouldn't be any banging noises from inside the shaft. Once he was in, he snaked a hand back up and slowly pulled the panel back in place. He loved these covert entries. He was the best at them on the team by far, and nine times out of ten could manage a silent entry.

Such was the case this time as he maneuvered through the ventilation system and dropped lightly down into the hallway on the third floor of the mansion. He landed in a crouch and paused, making sure no one had heard him. There was silence. He assessed his location and compared it to the mental map that he had of the house, discovering, to his satisfaction, that he was right where he should be.

Looking around he spotted a chair just a few feet from where he was standing. He walked over and picked it up, moving it back to where he had emerged from the ventilation shaft. He quickly climbed on top of the chair and used it to reach up and slide the vent cover back into place.

Climbing off the chair, he replaced it in exactly the same spot, and then rubbed his gloved hand on it to erase the marks on the cushion from his feet. Rubbing his foot lightly over the carpet he also removed the marks from the feet of the chair.

Pivoting on the balls of his feet, he took several steps down the hall before entering a door on the right. He eased the door open and slipped through, silent and stealthy. He softened his breathing so that it was barely perceptible and looked around the room to make sure he hadn't been detected.

He stood in a large, spacious bedroom. The furniture was made of oak, stained a dark brown. There was a four-poster bed with a canopy, two identical nightstands, a dresser with a heavy mirror mounted over it, and a heavy, overstuffed wingback armchair with a floor lamp behind it. Off to his left was a door that led into a bathroom. The bay window on the far wall let in plenty of moonlight for him to see by.

He located a small control panel on the wall next to the door and easily pried the cover loose. Once the wires were exposed, he adjusted them ever so slightly, just as he had been instructed. The system was ridiculously easy to bypass, and a moment later, he had slipped the cover back in place.

He glanced over to the bed for the first time, at the man sleeping soundly. A wheelchair was parked next to it and a metal framework hung over the bed to enable the man to get out of the bed more easily the next morning. His lip curled in a sneer at the man before he left the room and closed the door quietly behind himself.

He moved further down the hall to the next door and opened that one, easing inside. In the dark, he could make out a room decorated in soft pastel colors, with all the basic necessities for taking care of a baby scattered around the room. The arrangement didn't fool him. He knew exactly what the man in the bedroom intended to do with this child. In the center of the room was a low cradle. He stepped forward and looked down at the baby nestled inside.

She lay curled up under a white blanket. Her faint wisps of hair were a pale blonde, and at the moment she was sound asleep. He watched her for a moment before leaning down and picking her up. She shifted in his arms before her green eyes opened and she looked up at him, blinking as she came fully awake.

"Ssh, little one," he whispered softly to her. "I'll take you out of this horrible place, don't worry." He shrugged out of the backpack carrier that he was wearing and gently slipped her into it, closing it securely. His employer wanted the child alive. That was the whole point of his mission, after all.

Slipping the bag back onto his back, he moved to the window and opened it. The alarm didn't sound, thanks to the bypass that he had done on the control panel. Just to the right of the window was the rose trellis that he had used to get to the roof. Moving slowly, so as not to jar his tiny prize, he eased out of the window, his feet finding the trellis.

Once he was fully out of the house, he descended rapidly and landed on the grass. Moving quickly, he made his way back over to the wall and climbed up as carefully as he could, before sliding to the ground. Once he was over the wall he removed the carrier from his back and held it in his arms as he ran to his extraction point. His employer would be pleased, but more importantly, the child was safe.

**Author's Note: Remember to read and review! I need the encouragement for this story!**


	3. Chapter 2: Devastating Loss

**Author's Note: Here we go folks! A brand, spanking new chapter for you! Don't forget to read and review!**

_**Chapter Two: Devastating Loss**_

"_Grief teaches the steadiest mind to waver."_

_Sophocles_

_Bzzz…bzzz…bzzz…_

Charles woke to the sound of his alarm going off. He lay in his bed for a moment before reaching over and turning off the alarm. Carefully, and with a great deal of pain, he eased himself into a sitting position, an action which had gotten a lot more difficult since the accident which had stolen his ability to walk.

Finally he managed to work himself upright. Reaching up, he grasped the metal framework that was installed above his head and used it to slide out of his bed and into his wheelchair.

He paused for a moment and listened carefully to the baby monitor. Usually Elizabeth was awake by now and calling for him, hungry for her breakfast, but it appeared that she was still sleeping this morning. He would have time to shower and get dressed before tending to her. He picked up the baby monitor and steered his wheelchair over to the dresser and gathered up his clothes before heading into his bathroom to shower and get ready for the day.

Half an hour later, he emerged from the bathroom, dressed and ready to start the day. He took a few moments to make up the bed, and then headed for the door. He paused by the alarm system control pad and punched in the code that would disable the security system. After taking care of Elizabeth, he would have to finish some paperwork that he needed to submit to the University administration in anticipation of resuming his teaching for the next semester.

He headed out the door and down the hallway a few feet, stopping in front of Elizabeth's room and opening the door. "Good morning, my love…" he began, before stopping as his eyes took in the sight of the changes to the room.

His eyes went directly to the open window, which he knew for a fact had not been open the night before. He never left the windows open at night, and especially not in Elizabeth's room. Her doctors had warned him that if she suffered a chill, especially in these early spring nights, she could get sick and die. Her immune system still wasn't as strong as that of a full-term baby, and he didn't want to lose her over something that could be so easily prevented.

From the window his eyes went to the cradle. Even before his eyes assimilated what he was seeing, he knew. His daughter was gone.

"No," he breathed aloud. _No, this can't be happening. Not after losing Lizzie too!_

He steered the chair over to the cradle and stared down into it. Lying on the bottom of the cradle was a soft blanket that must have been dropped when his daughter was picked up. As if in a dream, he reached into the cradle and picked up the blanket.

His fingers brushed the soft cotton, lingering over a beautiful rose that had been stitched into the fabric at the bottom corner. Lizzie had stitched that rose, even before they knew that she was carrying a daughter. She had secretly hoped for a daughter, he knew, and he suspected that her mother's intuition had told her they would have a daughter.

His fist suddenly clenched in the blanket as grief washed over him like a tidal wave. _God, please no! No more! My heart can't take anymore!_ With that he buried his face in the blanket and sobbed. He cried for Lizzie, so sweet and beautiful and loving, who was taken from him much too soon. He cried for his daughter, lost somewhere in the hands of strangers, still so weak and young. He cried for himself, and the losses that he had already suffered.

Finally, the tears subsided, though the grief did not. For the longest time, all he could do was sit there and stare at the empty cradle. _Oh, Lizzie…I've failed. I failed to protect her. What more could possibly go wrong? You gave your life to bring her into this world safely, and I couldn't even manage to protect her for more than three months! If you can see me, beloved, please forgive me for my failure._

_Is everything I do cursed?_ he wondered desperately. _First my parents, then Cain…Lizzie…oh, sweet Lizzie…and now Elizabeth. Am I ever meant to have peace and happiness in my life?_

The grief crashed over him again, no less strong than it had when he realized his daughter was missing. What more could he do? It seemed that nothing that he did worked out right. He couldn't even protect his daughter and he had no way of finding her.

_Finding her…oh, God, if you put that thought into my head, thank you!_ he thought as his heart leapt. If _he_ couldn't find her, there were people who could! His cool, logical, scientific mind finally took over, beating the grief back with a vengeance.

He quickly left the room and returned to his own room, reaching for the phone on the side table. Picking up the handset, he pushed 911 on the keypad.

"_911, what's your emergency?"_ a female voice asked over the line once the call went through.

"My daughter has been kidnapped," Charles said, inwardly marveling at how calm he sounded, when his heart was racing with fear for his daughter.

"_Your name sir?"_

"Charles Xavier. I live at 1407 Greymalkin Lane, in Bayville, New York."

"_Are you at home now, sir?"_

"Yes."

"_The police are being dispatched to your home, Mr. Xavier,"_ the woman said. _"Was anyone hurt?"_

"No."

"_The police should be there momentarily. Please be ready to let them in when they arrive."_

"Of course," Charles replied, before the operator disconnected the call. He immediately went to the front door and used the keypad to open the mansion gates so the police cars would be able to enter. All the while his heart was clenched with fear. _Elizabeth…oh God…please don't let this be happening! Please, let them find her! Lord…keep her safe where I could not, until I can hold her in my arms again._

"_There is no despair so absolute as that which comes with the first moments of our first great sorrow."_

_- George Eliot_


	4. Chapter 3: The Investigation Begins

**Author's Note: Long chapter tonight folks! Enjoy!**

_**Chapter Three: The Investigation Begins**_

"_How can you solve a crime if you don't understand the victim?"_

_Jane Gilbert (CSI Season 1, episode 20 "Sounds of Silence")_

Within half an hour, police cars covered the grounds of the stately mansion. Several cars had parked in front of the gates, barricading them in order to keep the press out of the way of an active crime scene until the police were ready to make a statement. Of course, that hadn't stopped them from congregating outside the gates, waiting for any news. At the moment, all they had to go on were hearsay and rumors, but the police didn't arrive _en masse_ at the home of the wealthiest man in Bayville without good cause.

Inside the mansion, Charles was showing the police who had responded to his 911 call the set-up for his security system. He had already given them a description of Elizabeth, along with a photo that Susan had snapped of her the day after he had brought her home from the hospital. At the moment, one of the officers was questioning him about how he had discovered that she was missing.

As he spoke to the officer, a technician from the police lab was carefully dusting the alarm control pad for fingerprints. Just then, another officer stepped into the room. "Mr. Xavier?"

"Yes?" Charles asked.

"There's an agent from the F.B.I. downstairs who would like to speak with you," the officer reported.

Charles glanced at the officer he was speaking to. The officer nodded, indicating that he could leave. Charles turned back to the second officer. "Of course." Following the second officer, he made his way to the elevator and quickly descended to the ground floor of his home.

The agent was waiting in the middle of the foyer. He was middle-aged, with close-cropped blonde hair and sharp, piercing blue eyes. He wore a neatly tailored grey three-piece suit and went clean-shaven. He turned as Charles approached. "Mr. Xavier? I'm Special Agent Fred Duncan from the Missing Persons unit of the New York branch of the F.B.I."

Charles only nodded wordlessly.

Agent Duncan took a moment to study Charles, his keen eyes quickly sweeping over him, automatically noting details about height, appearance, and his emotional state. "Is there somewhere private, near a phone, where we can go to discuss your daughter's disappearance?"

Charles nodded. "My study." He turned his chair and led the agent through the mansion until he reached a small, comfortable room tucked at the back of the house.

Despite the small size, the room was well-appointed and cozy. The room was lined wall-to-wall with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. The only places where there were no bookshelves were along the west wall, which was where a graceful marble fireplace held sway, and the south wall, which held a bay window that overlooked the cliff that the mansion sat on. There was well-used furniture, mostly armchairs, lamps, and one low couch scattered around the center of the room, and just in front of the window was a massive oak desk with two chairs in front of it.

"Please, have a seat Agent Duncan," Charles said, steering his chair through the room and stopping it behind the desk. A large desk calendar sat on the desk surface, with a telephone, desk organizer, lamp, and in-tray arranged neatly to the sides and top of the desk. Charles folded his hands in front of him and rested them on the desk as Agent Duncan took a seat in one of the chairs in front of the desk and pulled out a small notepad and a pen from the inside pocket of his jacket.

"All right, Mr. Xavier. I need to ask you some questions about your daughter and yourself. The more that I know about your background and hers, the more leads that I will have to pursue."

Charles nodded.

"What is your daughter's name?"

"Elizabeth Anne Xavier," Charles replied.

"And how old is she?"

"Five months."

Agent Duncan started in surprise. "That young? I was only told that she was missing, not how old she was. I was expecting her to be a teenager, or at least a pre-teen."

Charles shook his head, knowing where the man's impression had come from. "I'm not as old as I look, Agent Duncan. I just recently had my birthday. I'm now thirty years old."

Agent Duncan took another long look at the father sitting in front of him. Charles was completely bald, confined to a wheelchair, and his face was weary and tired looking. "I apologize, but I'm afraid I don't understand."

Charles sighed softly. "I went bald when I was in high school Agent Duncan. I believe that it has something to do with the fact that my father was a nuclear scientist and did a great deal of work with nuclear radiation. It is possible that he was exposed to enough of it before I was born that it affected my genes."

"I see."

Charles shook his head again. "It is a common enough mistake, Agent Duncan. I've been told many times that I look older than I really am. It actually gives me a greater degree of respectability, especially with my students."

"Students?"

Charles nodded. "I am a professor of Genetics, Biophysics, and Biology at New York University. I'm currently on a leave of absence, due to doctor's orders."

Duncan made a note of this. "All right. Your daughter is five months old. May I have a description of her?"

"Blonde hair and green eyes. She's small for her age and weighs about ten pounds. I already gave a picture of her to the officers upstairs."

"That does seem to be rather small for a five-month old," Duncan commented as he continued to make notes.

"She was born two months premature, and she's still catching up in a lot of ways," Charles explained.

Duncan noted that as well. "If I might ask, Mr. Xavier, where is her mother? Is she out of town?" The agent had noticed a gold wedding band on Charles' hand, but thus far he had not seen any sign of the man's wife.

Charles' face stilled and for a very brief moment, grief flashed across his face and was reflected in his eyes. He swallowed hard as the grief faded from his face, but it was still in his eyes. "Her mother…my wife…is dead."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Duncan stated sincerely. "It happened recently?"

"Five months ago. Lizzie…Lizzie died in childbirth," Charles replied, swallowing again. "There were complications…a caesarian saved my daughter's life, but Lizzie was bleeding internally during the procedure and she lost too much blood. The doctors weren't able to stop the bleeding in time."

"Lizzie?"

"Elizabeth…my wife. Her full name was Elizabeth Anna. I named our daughter after her, in honor of her mother. I always called her Lizzie, and so did all of her friends. It had been her nickname since childhood."

"So you're raising your daughter alone?" Duncan asked. When Charles nodded, he continued. "There's no other family?"

Charles shook his head negatively. "No one close. My parents, Brian and Sharon Xavier, died when I was a child, and I'm an only child. Lizzie's parents, James and Rachel Michaels, are still alive, but they're living in Toronto at the moment. They were making plans to move down here this summer to be closer to their grand-daughter. Lizzie was also an only child. Elizabeth's godmother is here in Bayville. Her name is Dr. Susan McGee." His eyes widened in shock. "Oh no…Susan! I didn't even think to call her! She loves Elizabeth as much as I do."

Duncan made a note of Dr. McGee's name. "You and Dr. McGee are close?"

Charles nodded. "We've been friends since college. She and Lizzie were best friends when they were growing up, and they both went to the same college, since they both wanted to pursue medical degrees." He shook his head in dismay. "I can't believe that I didn't call her."

"Would you like her here?" Agent Duncan asked kindly. "I can send an officer to pick her up."

"If you would, I would appreciate it, Agent Duncan. She shouldn't have to hear about this on the news," Charles replied softly. "I'd call her, but I was told by the police who first responded that we needed to keep the line open for a ransom call."

"Absolutely right. What is Dr. McGee's address?"

Charles gave him the address of Susan's clinic on Main Street. He knew she would be there by this time. Agent Duncan left the room for a moment, and returned shortly. "An officer will go and pick her up, Mr. Xavier. Are you all right to continue answering questions until she gets here?"

Charles nodded. "Yes. And it's _Dr_. Xavier. I have a PH.D in education, and a second PH.D in Genetics."

"I apologize, Dr. Xavier," Agent Duncan made a note in his notebook. "Do you have any enemies, Doctor?"

Charles shook his head. "No. I have some rivals, but in the world of academia, that's not that uncommon. Scientists are always competing with each other for research grants and teaching positions. Any rivals I have are purely academic ones, and none of the rivalries are worth kidnapping my daughter over. Most people don't even know I have a daughter. I've only informed a handful of people."

"May I have their names?"

Charles frowned. "Let's see…Lizzie's parents, obviously. I'm not sure who they might have informed. Susan knows, since she delivered Elizabeth. I also notified my friend Dr. Moira MacTaggert, but she's living in Scotland at the moment."

He paused in thought. "I also notified the University, but only as a courtesy, since it wasn't going to be affecting my teaching while I was on medical leave. At the University, I would guess that the President of the college and the Dean of the Science department would know, and they might have informed some of the other professors." He shook his head. "That's all I can think of. I just didn't inform that many people, since I have no remaining family, and I was in shock from losing Lizzie so abruptly. The doctors weren't sure if Elizabeth would live for a while, given the sudden onset of complications that Lizzie suffered, and I was so worried about her that I barely was able to arrange Lizzie's funeral. Her parents did most of the work for me."

"That's understandable," Agent Duncan commented, still making notes. He paused for a moment. "Dr. Xavier, you mentioned that you were on a leave of absence from your teaching position. Could you explain that to me, please?"

Charles gestured at his wheelchair. "I was only recently paralyzed, Agent Duncan. It happened last June, while Lizzie and I were vacationing in Europe. When I came home and recovered, the doctors suggested that I take a semester off to come to terms, emotionally and physically, with the aftermath of the accident. I was planning to resume teaching this past January, but after Lizzie's death and Elizabeth's birth, I requested another semester off to care for my daughter, since I didn't want to leave her in the hands of baby-sitters while she was still so tiny from being born premature."

Agent Duncan made note of this. "And the university didn't have any objections?"

Charles shook his head. "None at all. I'm perfectly within my rights to request a sabbatical or a leave of absence, since I am a tenured professor, and they were very understanding when they heard about everything that had happened."

"All right, Dr. Xavier. I'd like you to walk me through the events of your day yesterday, from the time you woke up, until the time when you discovered that your daughter was gone."

Charles nodded. "I woke up about eight, when Elizabeth started calling for me to feed her. I took her downstairs, fed her and ate my own breakfast and then gave her a bath and got her dressed for the day. Then I put her in her playpen in my room so I could shower and dress."

"You keep a playpen in your room?" Agent Duncan asked.

"Agent Duncan, you have to understand that I don't have as much mobility as other parents. Until Elizabeth is old enough to be left alone for long periods of time I have to keep her close to me, and my wheelchair prevents me from running to her if she needs me." There was a touch of anger and frustration in the father's voice. "I keep a playpen in every room that I spend a great deal of time in. They collapse easily and I can unfold them and set them up in a matter of moments, despite my wheelchair."

"I apologize, Dr. Xavier," Agent Duncan replied.

Charles closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself down. _Anger won't help you get Elizabeth back_, he reminded himself. Despite the fact that he was so worried about her he was nearly sick, he knew that if he didn't stay calm, he would only hinder the police. There would be time later to get angry. "It's not your fault, Agent Duncan. My…physical limitations are still new to me and I sometimes react oddly when I'm questioned about them. I was an athlete. Learning to cope with my new situation has been a challenge, and between being paralyzed, losing Lizzie, gaining Elizabeth, and now this…it has been a rather difficult year."

Agent Duncan nodded and made a note. "Please continue, Dr. Xavier."

"After I showered, I brought Elizabeth down here and put her in her playpen so I could do some work. I had some lesson plans that I needed to adapt, and some of my own research to work on," Charles continued. "I had to stop several times in the morning because Elizabeth needed me, and then I stopped for lunch just before noon. I fed Elizabeth and then put her upstairs for her afternoon nap, but I brought the baby monitor down here so I could hear her while I caught up on some routine chores. Paying bills and a little bit of light cleaning mostly."

He paused again, thinking. "Elizabeth woke up from her nap around two-thirty, so I took her out into the garden and played with her for a few hours. I started dinner around six, and we ate around quarter to seven. I gave her another bath and read her a story and then put her to bed around eight. After that I came back down and watched the evening news, and then a movie came on, so I watched most of that. Elizabeth woke up a little before ten and wanted to be fed, so I fed her and changed her and put her back to bed. Then I got ready for bed, but I stayed up until almost midnight reading."

"And nothing seemed unusual or out of place?" Agent Duncan asked.

Charles hesitated while he thought about it, remembering his uneasiness the night before. But how would he explain that to this agent without making him curious? It had only been a passing feeling after all. "No."

Agent Duncan noticed the hesitation and made a mental note of it, but otherwise didn't comment. "Did you have the baby monitor with you in your room last night?"

"Yes. I always keep it close to me when Elizabeth and I are not in the same room. The volume was plenty loud enough that I should have heard anything from her room."

"But you didn't hear anything?" Agent Duncan clarified.

Charles sighed and shook his head. "No, but I'm a rather heavy sleeper. My sleeping patterns have changed somewhat since the accident, since I sometimes suffer from pain in the middle of the night, and since Elizabeth was born I've often had to get up in the middle of the night to go to her." He smiled, somewhat tiredly. "I didn't realize how hard being a single parent was, and how it can wear you down. If there were any noises from Elizabeth's room last night, I must have slept right through them."

He decided not to add that his telepathy was a more reliable indicator of Elizabeth's needs than the baby monitor. While he might have slept through any sounds from the room, if she had been in any kind of distress or need, he would have sensed it, but he couldn't admit that to the agent without revealing that he was a telepath.

"And overall, the day was fairly normal for you?"

Charles nodded in agreement. "Yes. We follow the same routine almost every day. I'm not teaching this semester, so I don't have worry about finding anyone to watch Elizabeth while I am in class, and I don't leave her with baby-sitters if I have to run any errands, because I take her with me."

"What about hired help? I noticed that your estate is rather large. Do you have someone who helps maintain it?"

"I do have the grounds maintained by a company, but they don't have any access to the house, and while they're here I keep the alarm set," Charles answered.

"What about inside the house? Do you have a housekeeper or a maid?"

Charles shook his head. "Only if I am expecting a large group of people over. The last time that anyone came in and cleaned was last spring, just before graduation. I was asked to host a fundraiser for the university," he gestured around the room, "since my estate is more than adequate to accommodate a fancy gathering and a large group of people. Lizzie enjoyed doing housework and before I was paralyzed, I helped her out quite a bit with the day-to-day maintenance and cleaning. Most of the rooms are kept closed off unless I am expecting guests, and the remaining public areas are easy for me to maintain, even with my wheelchair. But I haven't had any one over since Lizzie…" he trailed off, remembering.

Agent Duncan gave the younger man some time to compose himself, noting that he seemed to be lost in happier memories. It only took Charles a few moments to shake off his melancholy and return to the conversation. "I apologize, Agent Duncan."

He paused in thought. "When my parents were alive there was a live-in staff, but after they died I spent most of the year at a private boarding school, and during college I was living in the city, so there wasn't much point to keeping a full staff in place."

Agent Duncan nodded. "All right, Dr. Xavier. Let's focus on this morning and your discovery of your daughter's disappearance."

"I woke up when my alarm went off at eight," Charles began. "Elizabeth wasn't calling for me, but sometimes I do wake up before her, so I take advantage of those mornings to shower and dress before I wake her up, and that's what I did this morning."

"So you weren't curious or suspicious that she wasn't awake?" Duncan clarified.

"No. It doesn't happen often, but it has happened before," Charles stated. "I didn't think anything of it. I took the baby monitor into the bathroom with me, so if she woke up while I was in the shower, I'd hear her. After I finished getting dressed, I came back in here and made my bed, and then I deactivated the security system from the control pad in my room…"

"You're sure that the alarm system was activated before you turned it off?" Agent Duncan asked.

"Absolutely. I always set the alarm immediately after I put Elizabeth to bed. All the windows and doors are wired with sensors. There are only two control pads, one in my bedroom and one downstairs next to the front door. They both control the entire system, but with the downstairs one I can also key the front gates to open or close at will. I keep the gates closed unless I am driving in or out."

Agent Duncan looked grim, but he continued to make notes. "Please continue."

"I deactivated the alarm, and then I went into Elizabeth's room to wake her up. The first thing I noticed when I entered was that her window was wide open. I never open the windows in her room, especially not at night. Her health is still to fragile from being born premature. She's improving rapidly, but she's still not at the same stage that a baby born full-term would be at five months."

"And there's no way to open the window while the alarm is activated?"

Charles shook his head. "None. The sensors are sensitive enough to pick up anything larger than a leaf hitting the glass. When I saw that the window was open, I knew immediately that she was missing. She's too young to be crawling, so she couldn't have gotten out of her cradle and just hidden herself somewhere."

"Did you call the police right away?" Duncan asked.

Again there was hesitation. "Not immediately," Charles admitted after a moment. "I was in shock, and…"

"About how long was it before you called the police?" Duncan pressed.

"I'm…I'm not sure," was the reply. "I don't think it was longer than fifteen minutes, but I wasn't really watching the clock."

Duncan made a note to have the time of the call checked with the dispatchers from the local PD. "Did you touch anything in her room?"

Charles nodded. "The outside doorknob and the blanket that she had been covered with last night. It must have fallen off of her when the kidnapper picked her up."

Duncan thought for a moment. "How is your daughter with strangers, Dr. Xavier? Does she allow them to pick her up?"

"I don't know. She hasn't been around many strangers since I brought her home from the hospital. She was too young and too weak to fuss if the nurses and doctors picked her up, and since I brought her home only her grandparents, Susan, and I have touched her. Her grandparents are in Toronto. They got here the day after Lizzie died and were here until about a week after I brought Elizabeth home."

"So she may or may not have fussed if the kidnapper picked her up?"

Charles shrugged. "I don't know. I think that if she had fussed I would have heard her."

Duncan frowned in thought and made a few more notes, not exactly liking the picture that was being painted. Before he could continue, there was a knock on the study door and an officer stuck his head in.

"Excuse me, Agent Duncan. The officer you sent to fetch Dr. McGee is here and she's demanding to see Mr. Xavier."

Agent Duncan nodded. "Send her in please."

As the officer left, Charles steered his chair away from the desk and towards the study door. Just as he pulled abreast of where Duncan was sitting, the study door swung open and Susan entered.

"Charles?" she made a beeline for her friend.

"Susan. Thank you for coming," he said softly. As she reached him she leaned down and embraced him tightly, just holding him. He sighed and relaxed into her arms.

Agent Duncan studied her closely. She was dressed for work in a soft, pale green cashmere sweater, a casual khaki skirt, brown ankle boots, and a lab coat thrown over top. Her brown hair was casually twisted up and pinned in place at the back of her neck, and she wore no make-up.

After several moments, the two adults broke their embrace. "I'm so sorry, Charles. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I…I don't know, Susan," he admitted.

"Have you called Lizzie's parents yet?" she asked softly.

He shook his head. "No. I was told to keep the phone line open in case the kidnapper calls in a ransom demand."

Before Susan could continue, Agent Duncan rose to his feet. "Excuse me, Doctor Xavier." He turned to Susan. "Doctor McGee, my name is Special Agent Duncan with the F.B.I." He offered his hand to the lady and she shook it briefly.

"I wish I could say it was a pleasure to meet you," she stated.

"I understand. I would like to ask you some questions, if you don't mind."

"If its all right with Charles," she replied.

"By all means, Susan. If he thinks you know something that can help us find Elizabeth, go right ahead. I'll wait out in the living room," Charles answered softly.

"I'd appreciate it, Doctor Xavier, if you would speak to the technicians that are setting up the wire tap on your phone. They'll instruct you what to do if the ransom call comes in," Duncan requested.

Charles nodded and headed towards the door. Susan put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed it tightly, in a silent gesture of support. He reached up and placed his larger hand over hers and squeezed back, offering a sad, but thankful smile. As he left the room he closed the door behind himself.

"Now, Doctor McGee, if you'll take a seat, we'll begin," Agent Duncan said.

**Don't forget to read and review! waits eagerly for new reviews**


	5. Chapter 4: A Friend's Point of View

**Author's Note: I apologize most profusely for the delay in getting this chapter out. In truth, I've had it finished for over a week, but between my younger brother's college graduation and my job, I simply haven't had a chance to get online and post.**

**Also, in response to several of my reviewers, this is another set-up chapter. Again, I apologize and I hope that you will continue to be patient with me. I promise, there is a method to my madness in the way I've set this chapter up, and this is going to be very important for future chapters as well as the plot. The good news is that after this chapter, there should only be one or two more set-up chapters before we blast into the Buffy-era and the real meat of the story. Please be patient with me!**

**And I apologize for the quote at the beginning of this chapter...I just couldn't resist. Don't worry, this isn't about to become a Star Wars crossover too.**

_**Chapter Four: A Friend's Point of View**_

"…_many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view."  
- Obi-Wan Kenobi (Star Wars, Return of the Jedi)_

As they claimed seats in front of Charles' desk, Susan's eyes fell on the playpen that was in the back corner of the room. At the moment it was folded up and leaning unobtrusively out of the way against one of the bookcases. She swallowed hard. _Poor Charles…oh, God, how is he surviving? Is he never going to get a break?_

Before she could continue to dwell on her friend's extraordinary bad fortune of late, Agent Duncan cleared his throat and turned to a clean page in his notebook, gaining her attention.

"Now, Doctor, before we begin, I just want to make you aware of some things. I may be asking some very odd questions that may not seem to relate to the investigation, but I assure you, I have a purpose for asking all of them. At the moment I am trying to gain as much background information about Doctor Xavier and the people in his life as I can, because that will give me more avenues of inquiry to explore as the investigation progresses."

Susan nodded. "I understand, Agent Duncan. Please proceed."

"For the record, may I have your full name?"

"Doctor Susan Louise McGee, M.D."

"What is your area of specialty, Doctor?"

"Obstetrics and Gynecology. I have a clinic down on Main Street, and I also work on-call at Bayville Hospital," was her crisp response.

"How long have you been a practicing physician?" Duncan asked.

"I've been practicing on my own for almost three years now, but I started my residency six years ago after I finished medical school."

"Thank you." Duncan made some notes, before looking up at the woman. "How long have you known Doctor Xavier?"

"Since college, which would be thirteen years, now. We attended the same college at the same time."

"Tell me how you met him, please."

Susan frowned, but nodded. "I grew up with his wife, Lizzie. We were best friends our whole lives. We did everything together. We both graduated high school a year early, after skipping our freshman year. Lizzie was Valedictorian in the class, and I was Salutorian. Lizzie beat me for Valedictorian by two-tenths of a point, or something like that. We both wanted to be doctors, so we enrolled at New York University and we were both accepted into the pre-med program. We decided we wanted to live together, and we had both earned full scholarships, so we moved into an apartment near campus together as roommates." She smiled in remembrance. "It sounds too perfect to be true, I suppose, but we both knew what we wanted and we worked hard to get it."

Duncan shook his head. "It doesn't sound all that unusual."

Susan nodded. "At any rate, about that time her father got transferred to Toronto for his job, and Lizzie's parents both moved up there. Since Lizzie and I were both declared pre-med majors we signed up for all the same classes so we could help each other with the assignments and such. On the first day of the semester, our first class was the freshman-level biology class. Lizzie and I partnered up, but the teacher wanted us to work in groups of three. There was an odd number of students in the class, so Lizzie and I were the only ones without a third person. Just then, Charles walked into the room, and the teacher sent him over to join us."

_"Hey Lizzie, look," Susan elbowed her friend, making her look up from where she was setting up their experiment for the day._

_"What, Sues?" Lizzie asked, glancing at her friend._

_"That guy right there. He's kinda cute," Susan replied._

_Both of them glanced towards the professor's desk, where the professor was speaking quietly to a young man who had just walked into the classroom. The teacher pointed him towards their table._

_"Oh, he's coming over here," Susan whispered._

_"Well, yeah. We're the only one with an empty spot," Lizzie pointed out calmly, although she continued to watch him approach._

_The young man approached the lab station where she and Lizzie were working. "Hi. I'm Charles Xavier," he stated, offering his hand to both of them which they shook._

_Lizzie smiled brilliantly, her green eyes sparkling. "I'm Elizabeth Michaels, but you can call me Lizzie. All my friends do. This is my best friend and roommate Susan McGee."_

_Susan shook the offered hand after Lizzie finished. "Nice to meet you. Where are you from?" She studied the young man. He had bright blue eyes that gleamed with good humor and intelligence. He was tall and muscular, obviously an athlete, but the oddest thing about him was that he was completely bald._

_"Bayville, New York," Charles replied as he set his satchel on the ground next to his stool. He caught Susan staring at him and grinned, realizing where her thoughts were going. "No, I didn't shave my head. I went bald last year."_

_Lizzie's eyebrows shot upward. "Aren't you a little young for male pattern baldness?" she asked boldly, before blushing as she realized how that must have sounded._

_Charles laughed good-naturedly. "It's fine, and yes, I am. My father worked in the nuclear field, and I think he was exposed to so much radiation before I was born that it made me go bald early." He shrugged. "At least I don't have to worry about haircuts."_

_All three of them laughed before the teacher called the class to order._

"Doctor McGee?"

Agent Duncan's voice broke into her remembrances. She shook her head and refocused on the agent. "I'm sorry, Agent Duncan. I got lost in my memories." She gathered her thoughts before continuing. "Lizzie and Charles struck up an immediate conversation when he joined us, and the three of us have been friends ever since."

She paused. "We ended up working together quite a lot during the first two years. Charles was a declared biology major, and even though he had chosen to take a much heavier course load than Lizzie and I had, we were in almost all of the same classes, so we saw quite a lot of each other. By the end of the first week of our freshman year he and Lizzie were dating. By the end of our second year he had proposed to her and Lizzie had accepted. They decided, mutually, to wait until after they had both finished their educations before getting married because neither of them wanted the stress of trying to plan a wedding on top of all of our class work."

Agent Duncan made several notes. "You say that Doctor Xavier took a heavier class load than you and his wife?"

Susan nodded. "Charles is absolutely brilliant in the sciences. He went to a private school, was Valedictorian of his class and also graduated a year early. He was also the school's star quarterback and led them to three state championships, as well as being a track champion. In college he pulled Lizzie and I through several of our science classes. He has such a gift for understanding them, and he's a brilliant teacher. Although Lizzie and I both passed with straight A's, it might have been a lot different if Charles hadn't been there. We were both stumped in several of our more difficult science classes, but Charles would go over all the material with us, find new ways to explain it, and it would just click. Because the science classes were so easy for him, he doubled and even tripled his course work in those classes, and as a result, he graduated with his Bachelor's degree in two years instead of four."

"He's a genius?" Agent Duncan looked interested.

Susan nodded. "Absolutely. When we were in class…he knew the answers to everything, and in some cases he knew answers before the teacher even went over the material."

"You're sure he wasn't cheating?" Agent Duncan asked.

Susan flared with anger. "I'm positive, Agent Duncan. I watched Charles study almost every day for two years. He made straight A's in every single class that he took. He worked hard, and he just absorbed all the information like a sponge. We had so many classes together, there's no way he could have cheated that much and Lizzie and I wouldn't have caught him at it eventually. He's a good, honest person, who loves learning."

"I apologize, Doctor. You understand I have to ask these kinds of questions. I need to know as much about Doctor Xavier as I can."

Susan tamped down on her anger. "Was there anything else?"

"He mentioned that he has two . When did he receive those?"

"After he finished his Bachelor's, he went straight into his Master's. He earned a double Master's in the next two years, in Genetics and Biophysics," Susan replied. "Lizzie and I finished our Bachelor's as he finished his Master's. We went straight into med school, and he started working on his PH.D in Genetics. At the same time, New York University offered him a teaching position in the science department and put him on the tenure track almost immediately. He finished his PH.D in three years, and then jumped into his second PH.D in education, which he finished as Lizzie and I were two years into our residencies. Almost immediately after completing his second PH.D, he was offered tenure."

"What can you tell me about what happened after you and Mrs. Xavier finished your educations?"

Susan frowned a little in thought. "Well…after Lizzie and I finished our residencies, she and Charles moved back to Bayville to begin planning their wedding. Since Lizzie was a pediatrician, and I was in obstetrics and gynecology, we discussed the possibility of opening a joint clinic together. Our specializations made us a good match, since women could come to me for their own health and for pre-natal care, and after their children were born, Lizzie would take over. Charles agreed with us and located the office space that I'm now using. He was kind enough to purchase it for us and to help us get established. We both had some money from our residencies, but not enough to open and fully equip a brand new clinic."

"That was generous of him," Duncan commented, still making notes.

Susan nodded. "We offered to pay him back once we got fully established, but he refused. He wanted to be certain that Lizzie was provided for in every way that he could, and since her income would be added to their joint finances, it didn't matter to him. It worked out wonderfully, because we were able to use the money we had saved to rent an apartment here in town and we continued to live together until Lizzie and Charles got married. After that, she moved here, and I bought a house of my own a few months later. After Lizzie died, I joined up with another pediatrician to take her place with our patients."

Agent Duncan made a note of that. "What about any enemies? Did he or Mrs. Xavier have any?"

Susan shook her head. "Not really. There were a few academic rivals, but no outright enemies as long as I've known him, and Lizzie was not the type to make enemies. She was very sweet and compassionate with everyone, which is probably why she chose pediatrics as her specialty, plus she loved kids. She was so excited and so happy when she found out she was pregnant."

"Any names you can give me would help, Doctor, even if they might not seem to be serious enough to result in a kidnapping. It's hard to know what might set a person off or inspire them to commit this kind of act," Agent Duncan replied. "Anyone who has worked with him or with Mrs. Xavier is someone we need to at least look into."

Susan sighed in thought. "Well, of the people that I know Charles has worked very closely with, Dr. Moira MacTaggert is the first one that comes to mind. She's also a geneticist. She got her Doctorate in Genetics about two years after Charles did, although she didn't pursue a degree in education. She and Charles have published several research papers together. She lives in Scotland now, and she did know about Elizabeth. She flew down here to help support Charles after Lizzie died. She was also one of Lizzie's bridesmaids at the wedding." She shook her head. "I'm sorry Agent Duncan. I just don't know many of the people that Charles associates with regularly. Most of the people I work with are in the medical field, not research and academia."

"What about any social enemies? Was there anyone who was jealous of either of them, or threatened them at any point?" Duncan indicated the room around him. "From what I've seen, it appears Mr. Xavier is a very wealthy man. When your friend started dating him, there must have been some gossip or complaints."

Susan thought about it. "There were some rivals, and yes, some jealousy, I suppose. Lizzie and I were used to it though. There were always others who were jealous of us because of our academic standing. In high school we had a fair number of dates, but no steady boyfriends. Charles was Lizzie's first steady boyfriend. Things got a little more intense after Charles and Lizzie announced their engagement, because there were people who had been actively chasing Charles. He was a football and track star all through high school, plus he was brilliant academically, as I mentioned, and yes, he does come from money. This estate has been in his family since America was colonized by the British. Each generation has just added to the family fortune. But Charles has never been a 'high society' type."

"There must be someone who had some kind of conflict with either Dr. Xavier or your friend," Agent Duncan pressed.

Susan racked her brains in thought. "I don't know…wait…" A memory tickled at her mind.

_"Charles!" the yell echoed down the corridor of the science wing of the college as Susan and Lizzie made their way to Charles' office to meet him for lunch like they had planned._

_Both of them paused and looked around, seeing Charles approaching from the opposite direction. He had stopped and looked over his shoulder, waiting for whoever had spoken to him to catch up with him. Coming up behind him was an angry looking man with fiery red hair. His face was extremely irate._

_"Uh oh," Lizzie murmured. "Robert appears to be on the rampage today. I wonder what set him off this time."_

_Susan and Lizzie increased their pace and drew even with Charles just as the young man reached him. Charles simply looked patient and resigned to the coming confrontation. He glanced over and smiled at Lizzie and Susan before turning his attention back to the other young man. "Robert."_

_"Damn you Charles! What the hell did you think you were doing?" Robert raged._

_"I'm sorry?" he asked, seemingly puzzled._

_"You know exactly what you did! That damn paper you just published in Scientific America! You just blew six years of research and most of my thesis material away, and I'm due to present my thesis in three months!" the other man shouted._

_Charles frowned. "That paper was thoroughly researched, Robert. I've been studying that aspect of genetics since I finished my bachelor's degree. I consulted with Moira on it and she agrees with me. The evidence is there. I didn't set out to destroy your work."_

_"Well you did! All of my work has gone down the tubes now! What am I supposed to do? Tell the review board that I was tilting with windmills? Huh? You know how important that thesis was to me!"_

_"Robert, I'm sorry, but what do you expect me to do? Ask your permission before publishing a perfectly valid paper?" Charles asked, sounding irritated for the first time. He glanced at Susan and Lizzie. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a lunch meeting." With that, he turned away from the irate man and faced his friends. "Lizzie, Susan…I'm sorry about this." He leaned forward and kissed Lizzie gently, a gesture which she returned eagerly. "Shall we go?" He offered his arm to Lizzie, smiling brightly at Susan as they headed down the hallway._

_"Damn it Charles! I swear I'm going to get you back for this! You've ruined my career, and I'm not going to forget it!" Robert raged from behind them as they walked away._

"There was one incident that I am aware of," Susan said slowly. "There was a fellow genetics professor at the University…Robert something. He was close to finishing his doctoral thesis when Charles published a paper that completely contradicted all of his research and destroyed six years of work. Lizzie and I were on our way to meet Charles for lunch the same day the article was released. This other professor made a scene in the hallway and said something about 'getting back at' Charles for ruining his career."

Agent Duncan's interest peaked. "Do you know his full name?"

Susan thought hard for a moment before shaking her head. "No. That was the only time I'd ever met him. Lizzie seemed to know who he was though, and I'm sure Charles knows his name and where he is now."

Agent Duncan scribbled a note. "I wonder why Dr. Xavier failed to mention this."

Susan shrugged. "Charles isn't the type to make enemies, Agent Duncan. He probably didn't think it was important. He's got a pretty firm grasp on his temper and most of the times things like that just don't bother him."

"Most of the time?" Agent Duncan pounced on her statement.

"Everyone loses their temper sometimes, Agent Duncan," Susan replied. "Charles wouldn't be human if he didn't."

"Did you ever witness him losing his temper?" Agent Duncan pressed.

Susan pressed her lips into a thin line as the memory came back to her. "Once."

_"Charles?" Susan asked as she stepped into the completely dark study. Moira was right behind her and they edged carefully into the room. "Charles, are you in here?"_

_"Go away."_

_Charles' voice came from somewhere in the vicinity of his desk, but with all the lights off and the heavy curtains drawn over the bay window there was no light anywhere in the room. Susan took another few steps into the room. "Charles, we're worried about you. Please, talk to us."_

_"Leave me alone."_

_"Charles, me lad, ye canna do this ta yerself," Moira spoke up, her heavy Scottish accent thick with repressed emotion._

_There was silence from their friend. Susan's hand groped for a light switch or a lamp…anything to brighten the room. Just as her hand found it, Charles spoke again. "Leave the lights off, Susan. Go away and leave me in peace."_

_"Yer not in peace," Moira countered. "Yer brooding, lad."_

_"Charles, we know what happened was a tragedy, but Lizzie wouldn't want…" Susan began, only to leap backwards as a book came flying at her head._

_"Damn it! I said __**leave me alone**!" Charles yelled. "I don't **know **what Lizzie would have wanted, now do I?"_

_Susan froze, her heart hammering at the near miss. This was the first time she'd ever seen Charles this angry, and it was certainly the first time he'd ever thrown something at her. She reached over and touched Moira's hand, nodding towards the door. Moira shook off her hand and shook her head negatively._

_"Charles, ye must snap outta this funk o' yours." Moira pressed. "We're yer friends, and we're worried about ye."_

_"Funk?" Charles asked. His voice trembled with barely repressed rage. "You think I'm just brooding? Damn it Moira…just go before I do something I'll regret later."_

_"Nay," Moira crossed her arms over her chest. "We're not goin' anywhere 'til ye talk to us."_

_"Talk? Talk about what? Talking won't bring Lizzie back! Talking won't save my daughter's life!" Charles exploded. "What could we possibly have to talk about!"_

_"Your daughter, Charles," Susan replied, finding her voice. "She needs you to be strong. And I've known…knew…Lizzie a lot longer than you have Charles, and I know, for a fact, that she wouldn't want you to do this to yourself. You've barely eaten in three days, and you're not sleeping."_

_"And you're the expert are you now?" Charles snapped. "In case you forget, Susan, you are not married. You don't know what it's like to not be there when your wife is dying…to fear losing your daughter and not being able to prevent it…to try to sleep in a cold, lonely bed…to lose your wife before reaching your second anniversary!" A large crash indicated that he'd slammed his hand down on something. "Damn it all, just leave me alone with my memories, since that's all I seem to have left."_

_"You're wrong, Charles," Susan replied, reaching over and turning on the lights despite his wishes. The soft glow filled the room, revealing Charles slumped over in his wheelchair behind his desk. Her friend looked terrible. He was haggard with lack of sleep and hunger, even if it wasn't feeling it at the moment. His blue eyes were dull and lifeless, and his hands were trembling with strain. "You still have me…and Moira…and Lizzie's parents. We all want to help you, but you're not letting us. And you still have your daughter…she's not dead yet, Charles. She's hanging in there. She could still pull through."_

_"Just leave me alone…please…" Charles begged, all the rage gone from his voice._

_"No, Charles." Susan took several quick steps to the desk and knelt down in front of her friend bringing their eye lines level. Books scattered around her feet indicated that the crash had been Charles knocking them to the floor. "Lizzie wouldn't want you to do this to yourself, Charles. She hung on long enough to bring your daughter into the world…will you really take yourself out of it and leave your daughter an orphan?" In truth, three days of lost sleep and no food wouldn't kill him, but she was going for shock value._

_That remark seemed to shock him to awareness, as his weary, sad, lifeless eyes met hers. She pressed on as Moira stepped behind him and put her hands on his shoulders. "If I'm the one you're angry at, then take your anger out on me, Charles. I did my best to save Lizzie…there was nothing I could do, but I tried, Charles. I tried my damndest. But don't do this to yourself. Don't put yourself at risk. I just know that your daughter will pull through, Charles. You still have something to live for." She reached out and grasped his hands. "It will get better Charles…you just have to be patient and have faith."_

"The only time I ever saw him lose his temper was just after Lizzie died. A few days after he buried her he lost his temper in his grief," Susan replied after several moments of silence as the memory flashed through her mind. "But Moira and I talked him down and helped him get over it."

"Hmm…" Agent Duncan made a few more notes. "All right, Doctor McGee. I only have a few more questions."

Susan nodded.

"From what I understand, Dr. Xavier has no family left, correct?"

Susan nodded. "His father died when he was nine or ten, his mother died a little over a year later, and his step-father died shortly after that."

"Wait…step-father?" Agent Duncan stopped her. "He failed to mention that."

Susan frowned in thought. "I'm certain that Lizzie told me that he'd had a step-father, that his mother remarried less than a year after his father's death."

"And both of his parents and his step-father died within a few years of each other?" Agent Duncan looked very thoughtful.

"From my understanding, yes. Charles never liked to discuss his family with anyone, though, so I don't know all of the details. Lizzie might have known more, but…"

Duncan took a few moments to look back over his notes. He noted that there was one thing that the doctor had failed to mention. "Dr. McGee, how did you feel about Lizzie and Charles as a couple?"

The doctor frowned. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"From what you said, they were together almost from the moment that they met, but you were right there when they met. Was there ever any chance that you and Mr. Xavier might have ended up together?"

Susan's frown deepened. "No. I believe that it was love at first sight for Charles and Lizzie. I was happy for her. Charles was always so kind and generous, and so gentle with her. Lizzie was never much of an athlete, because she was never as strong, physically, as she would have liked to be. Some people might have called her fragile, or delicate. She was never ill to the point where it left her disabled in any way, but she just didn't have the same stamina or physical strength as most of the other girls our age. Lizzie and Charles were such a contrast. Charles was athletic, and fit, but he treasured Lizzie, and it didn't seem to bother him that she was so much less athletic."

"There must have been some concerns then about her pregnancy? Mr. Xavier mentioned that she died in childbirth."

Susan's lips tightened in annoyance. "There was little risk. I was Lizzie's doctor, Agent Duncan. There was no reason that she couldn't have brought Elizabeth full term. The tragedy that claimed her life was just that. A tragedy. It was a freak occurrence, since Lizzie had been having a perfect pregnancy up to that point. We still don't know why it happened. All that matters is that we managed to save Elizabeth."

"So you don't think there's any chance that losing his wife left him…unstable?"

The doctor's eyes narrowed as her mind flashed back on the memory of Charles after the funeral before she banished it. "I don't know where you are going with this line of questioning Agent Duncan, but I don't appreciate it. Charles is a good man. He has suffered a great deal in his life, between losing his parents at such a young age, then losing his step-father, and then becoming paralyzed and confined to his wheelchair. Yes, Lizzie was a stabilizing factor for him, and she brought him a great deal of happiness, but other than the logical grief he suffered at her death, he is the same warm, caring man that I have known for thirteen years."

The agent frowned. "It does sound like he has gone through a lot. You're certain that he has not been adversely affected by these tragedies? They do seem to happen quite frequently around him."

Susan stood up abruptly. "I don't like your implications, Agent Duncan. Charles would never do anything to hurt anyone, especially not his daughter. He loves her too much. She's the last thing that he has of Lizzie, and he would never, ever do anything to jeopardize that." She headed for the door. "I believe this interview is over. I'm going to go to Charles and see what I can do to support him."

"One last question, please, doctor." Agent Duncan said, standing up. "What is your current relationship to Mr. Xavier? Has he reached out to you, in any way, since his wife's death?"

"Only for the support of a friend and as his daughter's godmother," Susan replied, her hand on the doorknob. "If you're asking if we're romantically involved, the answer is no. Charles and Lizzie swore that they would remain true to each other. They struck the "until death do us part" section from their wedding vows. Charles still considers himself to be married to Lizzie, and not even her death changed his loyalty to her." She opened the door and left the room, abruptly.

She failed to notice the glimmer of interest in Agent Duncan's eyes as she stormed out.

**Don't forget to read and review! I need the encouragement!**


	6. Chapter 5: Waiting

**Kind of a short chapter today folks, but this should be the last set-up chapter for the time being! Next chapter we blast into modern Buffy-era!**

_**Chapter Five: Waiting**_

"_When a good man is hurt, all who would be called good must suffer with him."  
- Euripides_

No ransom demand came in that day.

Charles and Susan waited anxiously all day for a call to come in, but nothing happened. The technicians and crime lab analysists swarmed all over the mansion for several hours, gathering evidence and looking for any clues relating to Elizabeth's disappearance. But all that Charles and Susan could do was wait and hope and worry.

Late in the afternoon, Agent Duncan made a statement to the press about the missing infant and the news exploded across the town. People in Bayville began to rally behind Charles, who was a well-respected and well-liked member of the community. Friends…even total strangers…brought food and well wishes and offers of support. Others volunteered to help on search and rescue teams, or to manage tip hotlines. Tips poured in, both to the police and the F.B.I. and Agent Duncan promised that every single one would be explored; no matter how unlikely the information seemed to be.

By the time that night had fallen, there had still been no ransom demand, but other news stations had picked up the story and were running with it. As hard as it was to admit, the abduction of the five-month old daughter of a prominent, wealthy New York scientist and college professor was big news, and any media outlet would be crazy not to run with it. Of course, that only led to more reporters loitering outside the mansion, but Charles honestly didn't care. He had closed the gates after sunset, since the police had mostly finished and other than the few technicians that were waiting for the ransom call so they could attempt to trace it, the only people in the house were he and Susan.

Once the news broke, it didn't take long for Charles' in-laws to hear about the situation, and they quickly began making arrangements to come down as well.

And so, they waited, tense and anxious, all that night. But no ransom demand came in.

James and Rachel Michaels, Lizzie's parents, arrived late in the afternoon the next day, but there wasn't much that they could do except sit and wait for news along with their son-in-law.

The following days quickly fell into monotony. Susan refused to leave, except for a few short minutes so she could go to her office and call her clients to let them know that she was canceling their appointments or referring them to another doctor for the near future. She also went home long enough to pack a suitcase for several days, since she had no intention of leaving until there was news.

Agent Duncan had left after the first night so he could begin running down leads, although he checked in frequently and made several trips out to Bayville. But there was no news.

For all intents and purposes, Elizabeth Anne Xavier had vanished, completely.

* * *

_Three weeks after the abduction…Xavier estate…_

_**Bing bong. **_

The doorbell rang.

Susan moved towards the door from where she had been sitting with Charles in his study. She was truly starting to worry about him, after three weeks with no real news. He was becoming more and more despondent, but he refused to talk about it. The last time that she had seen him like this was after Lizzie's death and Susan was afraid that he was giving up hope. If some good news didn't break soon, she was afraid of what he would do. After Lizzie's death, Elizabeth had been his life and to lose both of them so soon...well, it didn't bear thinking about.

She opened the door to find Agent Duncan and a stranger standing on the front steps. "Agent Duncan. Is there any news?" she asked, seeing the grim look on his face. She looked questioningly at the stranger.

"Hello Doctor. This is my partner, Special Agent Jonas Bell. There has been a...development. Is Doctor Xavier here?"

"Of course. He's in his study," Susan replied.

"Thank you." With that, the two men pushed past her and headed for the study. Susan followed them, uncertain why seeing them was giving her such uneasy feelings. She knew that, by right, Charles deserved to hear any news first, since he was the one most affected by Elizabeth's abduction, but something about the two men didn't feel right.

Maybe it was the fact that only she and Charles were home at the moment. Lizzie's parents had gone into town to run some errands, unable to bear the silence and the tension in the house any longer, and Susan knew that Charles' despondency was getting to her as well, but she still refused to leave her friend in his time of grief.

Agent Duncan was standing in front of the desk introducing Agent Bell as Susan entered. The look of hope on Charles' face was almost painful. If this wasn't good news…Susan crossed her fingers and hoped for the best as she rounded the desk to stand next to her friend as Agent Duncan finished introducing his partner.

"What news do you have, Agent Duncan?" Charles asked, quietly, nodding in greeting to the other agent, but focusing all of his attention on Duncan.

"We still haven't located your daughter, Doctor Xavier, but that's not why we're here today." He handed the father a folded piece of paper.

Charles took it and unfolded it, skimming it with his eyes. Suddenly his eyes widened in shock and anger. "You must be joking!"

"I'm afraid not, Doctor," Agent Duncan replied. Reaching towards his belt he removed his handcuffs. "Charles Xavier, you're under arrest for suspicion and conspiracy in the disappearance of Elizabeth Anne Xavier."

**Don't kill me! Remember to review! _runs and hides_**


	7. Chapter 6: If it's not voices in my head

_**Chapter Six: "If it's not voices in my head…**_

"_Nothing is so common as the wish to be remarkable."_

_William Shakespeare_

_Sunnydale, California…Sunnydale High School…18 years later…April 1999_

Buffy hurried out into the quad, looking for Jonathan. He had to be here somewhere, especially now that lunch was just about to start. Even though the others were looking elsewhere for him, she just had a feeling that he was out here somewhere.

She looked around squinting into the sunlight, but something drew her gaze upward towards the clock tower. It was hard to see, even for her enhanced eyes, but after a moment she definitely saw him up there with…a high-powered rifle.

She hesitated only a moment, before running for the stairs that led up to the second floor of the school. Leaping onto the balustrade, she ran up it, drawing several incredulous looks from the other students. Once she got to the top of the stairs, she leaped for the gutter and caught hold. Pulling herself up enough to brace her feet on the underside of the roof, she pushed off and flipped up to the roof. Racing across the red clay tiles, she leaped through the boarded up windows in the clock tower, landing in a crouch, staring up at Jonathan as he aimed the rifle in her direction.

"Get away from me."

She slowly rose from her crouch, keeping a careful eye on the rifle. "Okay, Jonathan. You wanna point that somewhere else?"

"Don't you try and stop me," he warned.

She held up her hands. "No. No, no stopping. Just here for the view. Hey, look. City Hall."

Jonathan's voice was tense and sweat beaded his forehead. "Go away."

Buffy faced him, a determined look on her face that left no room for argument. "Never gonna happen."

"You think I won't use this?" Jonathan demanded.

"I don't know, Jonathan. I just – " she took a couple of steps forward, only to see him step to the side and raise the gun to point directly at her.

"Stop…doing that!"

"Doing what?"

"Stop saying my name like we're friends. We're not friends! You all think I'm an idiot. A short idiot." There was real pain in his voice.

"I don't." Buffy replied. Seeing that she had his attention, she continued. "I don't think about you much at all. Nobody here really does." She could see that she was making sense to him. "Bugs you, doesn't it? You have all this pain, all these feelings and nobody's really paying attention."

"You think I just want attention?" Jonathan asked with bitterness in his voice.

Buffy didn't know where all this inspiration was coming from, but it seemed to be working, so she kept talking. "No. I think you're up in the clock tower with a high-powered rifle because you wanna blend in." She sighed, remembering everything that she had heard and sensed the night before when the thoughts kept invading her mind. "Believe it or not, Jonathan, I understand about the pain."

He scoffed at her. "Oh, right, because the burden of being beautiful and athletic…that's a crippler."

Buffy frowned at him. "You know what? I was wrong. You _are_ an idiot." He stared at her. "My life happens to, on occasion, suck beyond the telling of it, sometimes more than I can handle," she replied, remembering her pain and grief after she killed Angel, the fear that she felt after being killed by the Master. She knew what pain really was.

Of course, she couldn't mention any of that to Jonathan. "And it's not just mine. Every single person down there is ignoring your pain because they're too busy with their own."

She turned and started walking towards the window that overlooked the quad. "The beautiful ones, the popular ones, the guys that pick on you. Everyone." Jonathan followed her to the window and they looked down at the quad together. "If you could hear what they were feeling…the loneliness, the confusion. It looks quiet down there. It's not." Another pause as she remembered the pandemonium of thoughts. "It's deafening."

She watched the rest of their classmates going about their lives, knowing that for once she had insight into what they were really thinking. Finally, she turned to Jonathan, who had lowered the rifle and was watching everyone else too. "You know, I could've taken that by now."

He nodded. "I know."

Buffy paused for a moment and then held out her hand. "I'd rather do it this way."

After a moment, Jonathan placed the gun in her hand and she quickly ejected the bullet that he had loaded into the chamber before turning and setting the gun down. The she turned back to him as he spoke again. "I just wanted it to stop."

"Yeah, well, mass murder? Not really doctor-recommended for that kind of pain. Besides, prison, it's a lot like high school, only instead of noogies…"

Confusion crossed Jonathan's face. "What are you talking about?"

"Actions having consequences. You know stuff like that," she replied, wondering if he really was that much of an idiot.

"Well, I…I wouldn't ever hurt anybody." Knowing that her face had to be full of disbelief, Buffy listened as he explained. "I came up here to kill myself."

_Oh crap…_Buffy thought, realizing that they had the wrong killer. Which meant that the real killer had to be…in the lunchroom! _Damn, I'm such an idiot!_

Grabbing the rifle, she leapt back out the window, stashing the gun high up on the roof where Jonathan couldn't reach it without breaking his neck if he changed his mind again after she left. She'd leave the gun there until she could talk to Snyder and explain everything.

Sliding down the roof, she flipped back down to the second-floor balcony and then descended the stairs in a rush, heading for the cafeteria. Yells and protests followed her as she pushed her way through the crowded hallways. She glanced at a clock on the wall as she passed and realized that the bell was just about to ring for lunch.

Crashing and yelling greeted her as she rushed towards the cafeteria. Slamming into the double doors, she threw them open. Xander was lying on the ground amid a pile of overturned tables and spilled trays and the lunch lady was standing over him with a butcher's cleaver in her hand, ready to swing it. Lunging forward, she grabbed the lunch lady's wrist, stopping the cleaver in mid swing.

"Okay, let's calm down," Buffy said, staring at the woman, whose eyes were wild and angry.

"Vermin. You're all vermin. You come in here and you eat, and you eat…filth!" the lunch lady replied, staring at Buffy, her voice choked with repressed emotions.

There was a short pause as Buffy assimilated this. "I don't see this being settled with logic." Yanking hard on the lunch lady's arm, back and forth, she made the cleaver go flying into a corner, where fortunately, no one was standing.

The lunch lady swung a heavy, meaty fist at Buffy, who ducked the blow then countered the attack with a quick one-two-three punch to stagger the lady, followed by a high snap kick to the face, and a round-house kick that sent her flying backwards several feet, only to crash into a boy sitting at one of the tables, sending them in a sprawl across the floor. Buffy dropped into a defensive posture, just in case the lunch lady tried something else, but the woman was on the floor, out cold.

Buffy relaxed and looked down at Xander, who was looking up at her with gratitude. "Good going, Xan."

"Thanks, Buff."

As Buffy leaned down to give him a hand up, Principal Snyder burst into the lunch room. He took one look around, seeing the lunch lady on the floor and the over-turned tables, with Buffy standing in the middle of the room and pointed at her angrily. "You! This is the last straw, Missy! I've tolerated your antics long enough, but when you start attacking the teachers and staff, you've gone too far."

"It wasn't like that, sir," Buffy replied, trying to be civil and not think about how much she'd love to lay Snyder out beside the lunch lady. "The lunch lady was trying to kill everyone."

Snyder stared at her in disbelief. "You really think I'm going to believe that?"

"It's true, Principal Snyder. I caught her pouring rat poison into the food," Xander vouched as he brushed off his pants. "I made the mess in here when I was trying to keep people from eating the poison. She grabbed that cleaver and followed me out and almost swung at me when Buffy stopped her."

The other students murmured in agreement. Snyder frowned fiercely, but finally nodded. "Fine, I'll take care of this." He stormed out of the room. Xander looked after him, shaking his head. "I'm gonna go change, Buffy." Buffy nodded, and followed Snyder, much as she didn't want to.

"Uh, Principal Snyder? There was something else," she began and when Snyder turned around, she quietly told him about Jonathan and where she put the gun. Snyder's frown deepened, but he nodded curtly and told her he'd take care of it.

As the officious little man hurried off down the hallway to begin cleaning up the aftermath, Buffy sighed in relief. At least it was over. She couldn't hear voices anymore, she and Angel knew where they stood as far as their relationship went, Jonathan was going to get the help he apparently needed, and they didn't have to worry about finding rat poison in their food at lunch.

"Buffy!" Willow, Cordelia, and Oz all ran up to her. "Did you find him?" Willow asked.

"It wasn't Jonathan," Buffy said quietly, "and yes I found him. It was the lunch lady. She was putting rat poison into the food today. Xander found her first."

"Is Xander all right?" Willow asked.

"Yeah, he's fine. He went to change his clothes since he had food all over them. He was knocking trays out of people's hands and got splattered," Buffy replied.

"But what about that letter to the newspaper?" Cordelia asked.

Buffy shook her head. "Suicide note." At their appalled looks, she corrected herself. "He was going to kill himself, but I stopped him. Principal Snyder is taking care of everything now."

Willow winced. "Poor Jonathan."

Buffy shrugged. "I don't know. I can feel for him, but he brought it on himself. He could have asked for help." She sighed heavily. "Look, guys…I just need a few minutes. See you later?" As they nodded, Buffy turned and headed down the hallway towards the courtyard. She needed to find a quiet place to sit and think for a few minutes.

The last few days had been…well…tough, for lack of a better word, she thought as she found an empty bench in the courtyard. With everyone else milling around inside, trying to figure out what was going to be done about lunch, given that all of the food had been poisoned, the courtyard was pretty quiet and Buffy reveled in it after the chaos of the last few days.

_Its nice to be alone in here_, Buffy thought to herself. _No one in here but me, and that's just the way I like it._ She sat back and closed her eyes and just relaxed until the bell rang signaling the end of the lunch period.

The rest of the day passed fairly normally, other than the gossip which flooded the school, both about Jonathan and about the near miss in the lunch room. At the end of the day, Buffy headed home, stopping briefly at Angel's mansion to thank him again for getting the second demon heart for her.

Dinner that night was…unusual. Joyce was much quieter than usual, given her discomfort with what her daughter had picked up from her. Buffy was perfectly happy to sit and eat in silence all things considered. After the chaos of the last couple of days, the silence was nice. Besides, she didn't want to dwell too much on her mom's relationship with her Watch…Giles. She sighed softly. She still wasn't used to thinking of Wesley as her Watcher.

After dinner she helped her mom clean up the kitchen before going upstairs to grab her leather jacket and her stake. As she came back downstairs she called out, "Mom, I'm going to patrol. I'll be back in a little while."

"All right, Buffy. Be careful, okay?" Joyce's voice was quiet, but full of loving concern.

"I always am, Mom," Buffy replied as she headed out the door, closing it behind her.

* * *

_Several hours later…_

Patrol had been relatively uneventful, other than a brief scrap with a newly risen vampire that couldn't resist the "blonde bubble-headed" act that Buffy often used to lure vampires.

As Buffy climbed into bed, she once again reveled in the quiet of her own mind. No one else's thoughts were intruding on her mind and she knew she'd never take that feeling for granted again. Her friends were lucky not to know just how difficult it was to hear all of that pain and anguish as a constant barrage in her head.

With that thought, Buffy rolled over and quickly fell asleep, looking forward to a calm, ordinary night.

_Darkness was all around her. This wasn't unusual. She was often surrounded by darkness, but something was different about this darkness. It was…comforting, almost welcoming. There was no taint of evil about it like she usually sensed when she was patrolling. High above her, she could see stars spangling the sky, but their light wasn't enough to allow her to make out any details. Apparently it was a moon dark night._

_The smell of salt was in the air as well…salt and water. She could hear waves crashing against the shoreline somewhere in the distance._

_In front of her, the darkness was beginning to lessen. Something was happening in the distance, as the horizon began to fill with a faint, warm light. It wasn't long before she could see that the light was coming from the sun, which rose slowly, yet steadily. Before long she could see that she was standing on the edge of a cliff, looking out at the ocean._

_She breathed the sharp, salty air deeply, reveling in the peace and quiet that this place held. Peace was such a rare thing for her, and she loved that she had found a place that was the epitome of peace._

"Elizabeth_..."_

_Buffy stiffened at the sound of her real name. Very few people knew that her real name was Elizabeth. She had been 'Buffy' for so long that almost no one called her by her full name._

"Elizabeth…_" the voice came again. It was soft and sweet, warm and, if her ears weren't deceiving her, full of…love? It was coming from behind her and Buffy slowly turned around, but saw no one._

"It is time. Elizabeth…it is time to go home."

"_Home?" Buffy asked. "But I am home. Sunnydale is my home." She looked around for the source of the voice. Then she noticed a figure, about her height, bathed in warm golden light that masked all of the figure's features. She had the impression that the figure was a woman, but she couldn't be sure._

"It is time to go home. He is waiting. Elizabeth…sweet Elizabeth…it is time,_" the figure repeated._

"_What do you mean? Who is "he"? What do you mean by home?" Buffy demanded._

"It is time_,"_ _the figure replied._

_With that the figure vanished and the landscape around Buffy faded away as well._

* * *

Buffy woke with a start, sitting up abruptly. Her room was dark and quiet, just like the cliff in her dream had been. She drew her knees up to her chest and rested her forehead on them.

_That was majorly weird_, Buffy thought. _Who was that? What did she mean by "he is waiting"? Is something else going to happen too?_ She groaned. _Why can't I ever get a break? If it's not voices in my head, it's dreams._

She lifted her head up and took a deep breath. _It was probably nothing. Dreams aren't always prophetic._

But then again…_whoever that was, she knew my name is Elizabeth. No one knows that, except Mom and Dad. Would I really have dreamed about a stranger calling me Elizabeth when I've been 'Buffy' my whole life? _Buffy wondered. _I wonder if I should talk to Giles._

She considered that for a minute. _Nah, it was just a stupid dream. All this telepathy stuff must have scrambled my brains. It's nothing to bother Giles with, not when the Ascension is coming up._

Resolved as to a course of action, Buffy nodded decisively to herself and then lay down and went back to sleep. Her sleep was peaceful for the rest of the night.


	8. Chapter 7: Trying to Understand

_**Chapter Seven: Trying to Understand**_

"_It is in our idleness, in our dreams, that the submerged truth sometimes comes to the top."_

_-Virginia Woolf_

_Three days later, Buffy's room…_

_This is starting to get ridiculous_, Buffy thought to herself as she woke up from _that _dream again. The one where she was on the cliff and that person was calling her Elizabeth. This was the fourth night in a row that she'd had the dream, and she knew it couldn't be a coincidence. It was starting to bother her. She didn't know why, but something about the dream was giving her the wiggins.

The problem was, it didn't feel like a Slayer dream, but at the same time it was too vivid to be something that her mind had conjured up as a result of all the pain and anguish that she had picked up during her brief telepathic stint.

_I should probably tell Giles,_ she thought with reluctance. She really hadn't wanted to worry him while he was still so busy helping with the research into the Ascension, but the dream wouldn't let her alone and she didn't know what else she could do.

Glancing over at the alarm clock, she realized it was just about time for her to get up for school anyway. With a sigh, she dragged herself out of bed and headed for the shower to get ready.

* * *

_Two hours later, Sunnydale High School Library…_

"Giles?" Buffy called as she shoved open the double doors leading into what Xander had once affectionately dubbed "Slayer Central". She stopped in the middle of the room and looked around for her former Watcher; also circumspectly checking to make sure Wesley wasn't around. She had no intention of confiding her dream to the younger, pompous Watcher. "Giles? Are you here?"

After a moment the older man stepped out of his office. "Buffy? Good morning. What are you doing here so early?"

She stepped up to Giles and spoke softly, in case Wesley was anywhere around. "I need to talk to you later. In private. No ears."

Giles caught on instantly. "Ah, yes. Shall we meet out in the courtyard at the lunch bell?"

Buffy considered. "Sounds good, but let's meet across the street under the big tree. Off campus. See ya later." With that she turned and walked off, almost walking straight into Wesley as he entered the library. "Hi, Wesley. Bye Wesley." With that, she was gone.

Wesley looked from Buffy's abrupt departure, to Giles, then back to the swinging doors. "How do you understand that girl?"

"Practice," Giles replied before retreating into his office.

* * *

_Lunchtime…same day…_

Giles was waiting in the shade under the large tree where Buffy and the rest of the Scoobies often met for lunch now that they were seniors and could leave campus when he spotted Buffy hurrying across the street. He frowned as she approached. She looked uneasy and uncertain…almost nervous about something. It was not an expression that he often saw on her face, so as a result, it was very easy for him to read.

"Buffy…what is it?" he asked her quietly as she sank to sit on the ground next to him.

His Slayer – despite the fact that he had been dismissed from the Council, he would always consider Buffy to be _his_ Slayer – bit her lower lip for a fraction of a second before looking up and meeting his eyes.

"Giles, I think something weird is going on."

Giles managed a small smile. "Is that unusual, Buffy?"

She frowned fiercely at him. "I'm not joking around Giles. I've been having this weird dream for the past four nights. It doesn't feel like a Slayer dream…there's no vamps or demons in it…but it doesn't feel like a regular old dream either and it's starting to give me the wiggins."

Giles frowned slightly. "A dream?"

Buffy nodded. "I wasn't going to tell you…on the surface it seems like a regular dream, but I've had it three nights in a row, and it's always exactly the same."

Giles reached up and adjusted his glasses. "Tell me."

* * *

_Bayville, New York…Charles Xavier's Institute for Gifted Students…_

Charles made his way down the upstairs hallway of his home, listening to the sounds of his students as they enjoyed their Friday afternoon, the weekend stretching out ahead of them. The sound brought a smile to his face, as it always did when he heard the teens enjoying themselves.

One of the bedroom doors just ahead of him was open and he could hear someone muttering inside. He frowned ever so slightly as he stopped his wheelchair in front of the door and looked in.

His newest student, a young woman named Rogue, was in the middle of setting her belongings into their places. Rogue had only come to join his students the day before, and Scott had promised to take her that afternoon to pick up her things from her former home with the Brotherhood boys. Now she was folding her clothes and sticking them into her dresser.

"Rogue? Are you all right, my dear?" he asked, tapping lightly on the door.

"Oh…hi Professor," she said, sounding subdued. "C'mon in."

He steered his chair a few feet into the room that Rogue was sharing with Kitty. "Are you getting settled, child?"

She straightened up and picked up her empty, battered suitcase, shoving it underneath her bed. "Yeah, I guess so." Her southern accent was softer than usual, reflecting her emotional state.

Charles shook his head. "Rogue, something is bothering you. I can tell," he replied, reaching up and tapping his temple, reminding her that he was a telepath.

She shrugged. "It's nothing, Professor."

He sighed inwardly. "All right, Rogue. But if you want to talk, you know where to find me."

"Sure."

Charles left the room and headed back down the hallway towards the elevator, intending to go downstairs and work on the new training program that he had designed for the student's for their session in the Danger Room the next day.

He had known that the time would come when other mutations like the one that had given him his powerful telepathic abilities would begin to emerge, and in an effort to be prepared when the mutations began to manifest he had turned his family estate into a special school for any teenagers who were gifted with these abilities. While the students attended the local high school, it was here, within the walls of his family estate, that they really learned what they needed to succeed in their lives. Control of their gifts and the ability to defend themselves were what they needed most. They worked hard and for the most part they had full control of their abilities.

But control wasn't enough. With more and more mutations appearing, it wouldn't be long before mutants were exposed to the world at large, and when that happened, well…

In an effort to be prepared for any kind of reception, his students were also learning to become a team known as the X-Men. It was Charles' hope that they would be able to bridge the gap between mutants and the rest of humanity when the time came.

But in order to do that, they needed to train and prepare for any possible scenario that they might face. That was the purpose of the Danger Room, and the X-Men spent a great deal of time in that room honing their skills.

He could only hope that when the time came, they would be ready.

* * *

_Sunnydale…_

Buffy finished relating her dream to Giles, who had pulled off his glasses as she told him about the woman…person…whoever it was…telling her it was time to go home, and begun polishing them as he thought.

There was a long pause as Giles considered what his Slayer had told him. Finally, Buffy couldn't take it anymore. "Giles? Any thoughts?"

The former Watcher sighed as he replaced his glasses on his face and pocketed his handkerchief. "I'm not sure what to say, Buffy. You're right that it doesn't seem to be a Slayer-dream, but there is something about it that seems…odd." He frowned, slowly working the problem through his head. "You say that this person called you 'Elizabeth'…that it's your real name?"

Buffy nodded.

"And whoever this was…sounded like she loved you?"

Buffy thought back over her impressions of her dream. "I would have sworn that I heard love in her voice, yeah." She shook her head. "It doesn't make sense, Giles. Everyone calls me Buffy. One of my mom's friends nicknamed me that when I was little, and it just stuck. I think only my mom and dad know my name is Elizabeth, and the only places where my name shows up as Elizabeth is on my birth certificate and my social security card."

Giles' frown deepened. "And you said you were on a cliff looking out at the ocean?"

Buffy didn't know where he was going with this, but she nodded.

"The sun was rising in front of you?"

Another nod.

"The only way that could happen would be if you were on the East Coast, Buffy, looking out at…the Atlantic Ocean…not the Pacific," Giles pointed out. "Whatever the meaning of your dream, the answers are out there."

"You mean I have to take a trip out east?" Buffy asked. "What about the Hellmouth?"

Giles shook his head. "I don't know, Buffy. Let me do a little more research and see if I can find anything indicating trouble out there. For now, though, we'll continue to concentrate on the Ascension. All right?"

Buffy sighed. "All right. What should I do if I have the dream again?"

"Try to remember as many details as you can. That's all I can suggest at the moment," Giles replied.

Buffy nodded. "Okay." She smiled at the former Watcher. "Thanks, Giles…and don't tell Wesley about this?"

He smiled as well. "I won't Buffy. I promise."


	9. Chapter 8: Curiosity and the Cat

_**Chapter Eight: Curiosity and the Cat**_

"_The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone."_

_- Harriet Beecher Stowe_

_Bayville, New York…Xavier's School for Gifted Students…one week later…April 23, 1999_

On the outside, to the casual observer, the Xavier School for Gifted Students looked like a quiet, ordinary private boarding school. Located at the edge of a cliff overlooking the bay for which Bayville was named, the large, ancient manor had been there for as long as the town had existed…longer in fact. For over two centuries, it had been a single family home that belonged to the wealthiest family in the area, until the current owner had converted it into a small, private school and invited a handful of young teens to live there and take special classes while attending the local high school. Many residents of Bayville had been glad to see signs of life in the old house, after almost two decades of silence.

However, no one standing on the outside looking in could have begun to imagine the true purpose of the school, hidden deep beneath the property in the subterranean levels. And for many, even if they could have imagined it, they would never have believed the reality.

Speaking of which….

"Nightcrawler! Grab Spyke!" a voice hollered, echoing in the cavernous, underground chamber. "You two take care of the baddies! Jean and I will handle the turrets!" He turned his attention to a second young woman who was on the other side of Jean. "Shadowcat, you and Rogue go for the target once we've cleared a path!"

The voice's owner was a tall, young man of about sixteen. He had dark brown hair and boy scout good looks. At the moment, he was crouched behind a metallic wall next to a statuesque, red-haired young woman the same age. His eyes couldn't be seen at the moment, due to the yellow visor with ruby-red lenses that completely covered them.

The object of his attention was another figure crouched several feet away behind a second wall. The difference was…where the voice's owner was human, the…person he was speaking to was completely different. The one identified as Nightcrawler stood just a few inches shorter, but it was there that the resemblance ended. Nightcrawler had blue-black hair, glowing opalescent eyes, and very short, fine blue hair covering his entire body. Everything about him, from the pointed ears, to the tri-fingered hands, to the tridactyl feet and prehensile tail screamed "not human". However, despite his appearance, this was an erroneous assumption. Nightcrawler was fully human, but he was one of those unfortunate mutants whose physical appearance had been dramatically altered as a result of his mutation.

"Right, _Herr _Cyclops," Nightcrawler replied to the shouted order. In a flash of light and a puff of smoke, the mutant vanished, reappearing a second later next to another of the room's occupants, a medium-sized African boy with strikingly blonde hair, who was currently engaged in shooting bony spikes out of his hands at several laser cannons that were focusing their attention on him since he had been caught without cover. Wrapping his arms around the other boy, Nightcrawler vanished again, reappearing on the other side of the room behind a makeshift wall that would give them cover.

The sudden teleportation didn't even faze Spyke, who immediately redirected his attacks from the laser turrets to a quickly approaching group of robots. Nightcrawler vanished again, only to reappear behind the robots, which he immediately began to pummel, his ability to quickly disappear giving him a chance to land a blow and immediately move on to the next one before it had time to react.

With Spyke out of the way, the boy referred to as Cyclops raised his hand to his visor and pressed a stud along the side. A ruby-red beam of pure force lanced from behind the visor, aimed at the turrets that were mounted along the walls of the room. When the beam hit them, the turrets exploded.

Meanwhile, the girl referred to as Jean was staring at each turret in turn and each one that she focused on trembled, before being torn apart as if an invisible hand was literally pulling them apart.

The other two girls, Shadowcat and Rogue, waited for a clear path before leaping out of cover and sprinting towards their target, a softly glowing golden sphere set on a tall pedestal on the opposite side of the room. Halfway across, Shadowcat, a petite young girl with long brown hair and blue eyes glanced behind herself, before lunging forward and grabbing Rogue's arm as one of Spkye's fabricated spikes, knocked off course by one of the robots, came flying at their heads. Shadowcat concentrated and a moment later the spike passed directly through them without touching them. It clattered to the ground several feet ahead of them.

"Thanks," Rogue called over her shoulder as she stooped and grabbed the staff-length spike. Holding the spike straight out in front of her, she charged forward and used it like a vaulting pole to launch herself up towards the pedestal. As she flew past it, she reached out and seized the glowing sphere, tucking it into her arms and pulling her arms in tightly to her body.

Her feet hit the floor, her knees bent to absorb the impact, and then she tumbled, landing on her shoulder and rolling several times to stop herself as her red and white hair spilled over her face, hiding her green eyes from view. After a moment she sat up, holding the sphere high and brushing her hair from her face.

In a matter of moments, everything was silent. Piles of scrap metal that had once been the turrets and robots lay everywhere and the teens emerged from their cover cautiously, almost expecting another ambush.

"Well done, X-Men!" a voice said over the intercom system. The teens looked up at the control booth that overlooked the entire room and saw Ororo Munro, also known as Storm, looking down at them with a smile on her face. "That's all for today. I'll let the Professor know how well you performed."

"Where _is_ the Professor, Storm?" Jean called up. "I thought that he was supposed to be instructing us today." All of the students murmured in agreement. Professor Xavier _never_ missed a training session unless he was called out of town, but he usually notified them of any trips that he would have to make each morning. There had been no such announcements that day, so for the Professor to skip a training session was unusual to say the least.

"Something came up and he asked me to cover for him, Jean. Nothing to worry about," the African woman replied.

The teens nodded and exited the Danger Room laughing and talking about how well they had done. All of them congratulated Rogue on her spectacular grab and landing, doing their best to make the shy girl feel like part of the team.

Storm, meanwhile, was gathering up the discs that had recorded the training session and powering down the Danger Room. She looked at the damage and sighed. Sometimes she honestly didn't know how they could afford to keep repairing the state of the art equipment that the students shredded so readily and gladly. If it weren't for the huge fortune that Professor Xavier controlled, there would be no way that any of this could be accomplished as easily as they were able to…although easy was a relative term in some cases.

Scooping up the discs, she left the control room via the elevator that would take her to the mansion's ground floor. Striding through the hallways, she reached Professor Xavier's study and knocked sharply on the closed door. It was unusual that the door was closed, since Charles always made time for anyone who needed to talk to him. "Charles?"

_**Come in, Ororo,**_ the telepath replied instantly.

Ororo took him at his word and opened the door, spotting the older man seated near the bay window behind his desk. He turned his head as she entered and offered her a small smile, but he seemed…almost melancholy, the weather witch thought. While he wasn't an exuberant or outgoing man by nature, today he seemed to be even more solemn than usual.

"I brought the recordings of the children's Danger Room session, Professor," Ororo told her friend and employer, placing the discs on his desk.

"Thank you Ororo. I'll look at them later," Charles replied, returning his attention to the view outside his window.

Ororo nodded and started to leave the room. But paused just before reaching the door. "Is everything all right, Professor? You seem…a little upset about something."

He glanced at her again. "It's fine, my dear. Thank you for covering the Danger Room session for me today."

"You're welcome, Professor," Ororo replied with a smile. With that, the pale-haired African beauty left the room, closing the door softly behind herself.

Once the door was firmly closed behind her, Charles maneuvered his chair over to his desk and reached into the drawer in the middle. Feeling along the back of the drawer, his fingers found a hidden catch and he pressed it, allowing the drawer to slide out fully, and revealing the secret compartment that he'd had built into it years ago. Reaching into the compartment, he removed a small, square picture frame, and a small box covered with black velvet.

Setting the photograph on his desk, he studied the image that it depicted with a smile that held equal parts love and pain. It was a picture that had been taken of him holding his little Elizabeth before she was released from the hospital, but after she'd been removed from the incubator. Picking up the small box, he opened it and stared at the item resting inside before snapping the box shut.

He fingered the edge of the frame for a moment before placing it and the box back in the hidden compartment and closing the drawer. Bowing his head for a moment, he made up his mind. Steering his chair around from behind his desk, he headed for the door.

Without saying a word to or meeting anyone, he headed out to the back veranda and out into the yard. He steered his chair along the well-worn path that led to the cliff edge, where he paused next to a carved stone bench that sat several feet from the cliff edge. This had been one of Lizzie's favorite places to sit in the evenings, especially in the summer, when the cool breezes off the ocean lowered the temperature to a more comfortable level. She had loved the soothing sound of the sea as it crashed against the rocks that formed the bay.

Heaving a sigh, he gently touched the sun-warmed stone bench before turning back onto the path and heading off to the left. There was something that he had to do…a visit to make. She would be expecting him.

* * *

Kitty had just finished taking her turn in the shower after the Danger Room session and had changed into a pair of jeans and a soft cotton shirt in baby pink. Grabbing her CD player and her book, she walked out onto the balcony of the room that she shared with Rogue. The balcony was too small, but there was a convenient tree branch that she could just reach which led to one of her favorite spots: a small hollow against the trunk of the tree, which was just the right size for her to curl up in and spend hours reading, or writing letters to her parents, or just listening to music and daydreaming.

As she climbed out onto the tree branch and followed it down towards the trunk, she paused halfway there, one hand on a tree branch over her head to keep her balance, as she spotted the Professor leaving the mansion. She watched as he followed the path that led up to the cliff. The path was well worn as far as the solitary stone bench that was placed only a few feet from the edge, but the path leading down to the beach itself was steep and narrow…too steep for a wheelchair, or so Kitty had always thought, since the Professor never went down to the beach when they had training sessions down there. He always waited at the top of the cliff while Storm and Mr. Logan supervised them directly.

She frowned as he paused near the bench, gazing out at the sea. After several moments, he bowed his head and ran his hand over the bench. _What's he doing?_ she wondered. When he turned back onto the path, she shrugged, figuring he just wanted some fresh air, but to her surprise he turned away from the path leading to the beach and moved in the opposite direction, into the forest.

_Where's he going?_ Kitty thought, surprised. _There's nothing over that way, just trees._ Although the team did train in the woods that surrounded the estate, they tended to stay fairly close to the mansion because that was where all the traps and obstacles were assembled. The forest was massive and since the Professor's estate was at the edge of town, only a small part of it was actually part of his property, but it was still enough for the students to be routinely run ragged when they had sessions out there. Outside of the Professor's estate, the land was all rural and agricultural, and, if Kitty remembered correctly, the forest was part of a huge state park.

Kitty hesitated, weighing her options, before her curiosity got the better of her. Hurrying down the branch to the tree trunk, she placed her CD player in the little hollow and then placed her hand on the trunk. A moment of concentration and she had phased into the tree trunk and began sinking through it until she reached ground level, where she emerged from the tree and back onto solid ground, before allowing herself to solidify. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching her, she hurried towards the cliff, before following the Professor's path into the forest.

He had gained quite some distance on her while she was getting out of the tree, but by moving quickly and phasing through the obstacles in her path, she was able to catch up to him although she hung back quite a ways, not wanting him to know she was there just yet.

The Professor seemed to know where he was going, but as far as Kitty knew, there was nothing over this way except the forest. Even though she'd only been at the mansion for a few months, she'd explored all of the Professor's estate, or so she'd thought. Glancing down, she was surprised to see a very faint, almost overgrown path between the trees, and that was what the Professor was following.

She trailed him in silence for almost fifteen minutes, surprised that he hadn't noticed her yet. One thing that all of the X-Men had quickly realized was that the Professor was a very astute man and that there was little that he wasn't aware of. Even without taking his telepathy into account, he was just a very intuitive man. He always knew when something was troubling one of his students and he was always there with a word of advice, sometimes before anyone even realized they needed it.

Finally she spotted their destination. Just ahead of him was a stone wall. It went over her head, so she couldn't see what was behind it, but there was a large, wrought-iron gate directly in front of them, and the Professor was heading right for it.

He stopped in front of the gate long enough to unlock it and then swung it open with the hinges barely making a token protest, which told Kitty that whatever was behind the wall, the Professor must come here often, otherwise the hinges would be rusty and complaining.

She waited until he had gone inside and closed the gate behind himself, although he didn't lock it, before she crept up to the wall. Concentrating and focusing her power, she phased her head through the wall.

* * *

"_A statue stands in a shady place_

_An angel girl with an upturned face_

_A name is written on a polished rock_

_A broken heart that the world forgot."_

"_Concrete Angel" – Martina McBride_

Charles sighed as he made his way down the dirt path among the headstones. He stopped at one pair in particular and looked down at them for a long moment. They were a very simple, identically carved stones.

_Dr. Brian Xavier_

_Beloved Father and Husband_

_June 10, 1930 - August 23, 1960_

_Mrs. Sharon Xavier_

_Loving Mother and Wife_

_July 28, 1932 – November 6, 1961_

He paused only for a moment before moving on. This was not what he was here for today. He continued down the path towards one of the most unique trees on his property. It was a tall, frail-looking weeping willow, with long, gently waving branches that sheltered the most precious pieces of his heart.

Near the trunk of the tree was another headstone, this one carved in the shape of an angel with an upturned face, wings gently swept back as if she was preparing to take flight to heaven, hands cradling an engraved tablet. Here he stopped and bowed his head, closing his eyes as the old, familiar pain washed over him. The words engraved on the face of the stone never failed to bring tears to his eyes and pain to his heart.

_Elizabeth "Lizzie" Anna Xavier_

_May 9, 1951 – November 19, 1981_

Underneath the name was a quote that Lizzie had once read and that he had found oddly appropriate when he had commissioned this headstone. He read the words and knew that they amply expressed everything that Lizzie had meant to him.

_Time is too slow for those who wait,_

_Too short for those who fear,_

_Too long for those who grieve_

_Too short for those who rejoice,_

_But for those who love, time is eternity_

_-Henry Van Dyke_

"Hello, Lizzie," he began, before he trailed off, gathering his thoughts. Most people, he knew, wouldn't have thought him to be the kind of person who would sit at a grave and talk to the person buried there. Oddly enough, it was only Lizzie that he could do it with. It gave him a sense that she was still with him, even after eighteen years without her, although it got harder and harder to come out here to be with her, because it constantly reinforced the fact that he would always be alone.

At first, after Elizabeth had vanished, he had come out here often, sometimes once a week or more, but as the years wore on, he hadn't been able to bring himself to come as often and the visits slowly dwindled down, so that he only came now on certain days of the year when the loneliness was too much for him to bear. And, almost without fail, coming here and talking to his wife always made him feel a little more at peace, and gave him the strength to go about his daily life.

He glanced to the side while he tried to decide what he needed to say and his eyes fell on a second headstone that was sheltered by the willow. It was carved to match Lizzie's headstone, with the exception that instead of holding a tablet, the angel was carrying a bundled infant, and stood on top of a slab of rock that was engraved with the name and date.

_Elizabeth Anne Xavier_

_November 19, 1981 – _

He had been unable to put a date of death on the headstone because no body had ever been recovered, and part of his heart told him that it could mean that his daughter was alive somewhere. But with each passing year it was harder and harder to hold out hope that she was alive and that he might find her again one day.

* * *

It took Kitty a moment to realize what she was looking at, but finally she realized that the wall was hiding a small cemetery. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she wondered why no one had ever found it before now. Cemeteries weren't exactly easy things to hide, or so she'd thought.

Glancing around, she realized that she'd lost sight of the Professor. She hesitated, not sure what she should do now, but finally, she allowed the rest of her body to phase through the wall. Crouching behind the large tombstone that was just in front of her, she carefully peeked over the top, looking for the Professor. There was no sign of him at first, but then she spotted him near a graceful willow tree with sweeping branches. Moving forward very carefully, she managed to get within twenty feet of him before she stopped, listening as he began to speak.

"I miss you, dear one. I miss you more with every passing day." He paused, and Kitty listened with interest. "Losing you left such a void in my heart. I know I've told you this before, but it's as true then as it is now. The students do a great deal to alleviate the loneliness, but even they can't completely fill the void you left behind."

Xavier heaved a sigh. "It's getting harder and harder to come out here, Lizzie. Each year feels longer and longer without you." He shook his head and slammed a hand down on the arm of his chair angrily, making Kitty jump, although she managed to keep silent and hidden. "It's just not fair, Lizzie. We had so short a time together, and part of that is my fault. We never should have waited, although it wouldn't ease the pain or the loneliness, but at least we would have had more time together. I know we both wanted to wait, but maybe if I had insisted…"

Kitty carefully peeked over the headstone, trying to see who the Professor was talking to, but his wheelchair was parked in the way and she couldn't read the name on the headstone.

"It all seems so senseless, Lizzie. We were supposed to grow old together, and instead we had only one short year. Things are getting so hard…I could use your quiet wisdom sometimes. They look up to me so much, and I do the best that I can, but you always knew just what to say, and I miss that as much as anything else."

Another pause and another sigh. "It's been eighteen years, Lizzie, and there's still no sign of her. I'm…I'm afraid I'm starting to lose hope. I've tried so hard to be strong, to keep faith that she was still out there somewhere; that I'd find her again someday." He glanced off to the side. "Maybe it's finally time to put the date on…but I still don't want to give up hope completely."

Kitty wondered if she should try to move closer, maybe get a better look at the graves that the Professor was talking to. She was a little hesitant to try it though, since it would mean giving herself away. She was still astonished that the Professor hadn't noticed her lurking yet. Wherever he was, he was definitely lost in his own thoughts.

"It's always hard, Lizzie, but today of all days of the year is always the worst," the Professor continued. "Forgive me, Lizzie…forgive me." He bowed his head.

Kitty shifted her weight ever so slightly and accidently lost her balance, falling back onto her butt with a small grunt. She immediately held her breath, hoping that the Professor hadn't heard her.

Small as the noise had been, it had been enough to attract Xavier's attention and his head shot up, looking around. It only took him a moment to pinpoint the intruder. "Kitty." She didn't respond and he frowned deeply. "I know you're there, Kitty."

Kitty winced, hoping that he wouldn't be angry. Rising to her feet and brushing off her jeans, she glanced up and met the Professor's eyes. His blue eyes, which were normally soft and warm, were fluctuating between annoyance, anger, and grief, which she attributed to whoever he was talking to.

The silence was heavy as the Professor studied her, not saying anything, his emotions clearly reflected in his eyes as he tried to decide what to say. In part he was embarrassed that he hadn't sensed her before now, and he wondered how much he'd overheard. He had been so wrapped up in his own emotions and his "conversation" with his wife that he hadn't been paying attention to his surroundings.

"Why are you following me, Kitty?" the Professor finally asked.

She stepped forward from behind the headstone, hanging her head. "I'm sorry, sir. I saw you from my balcony and I saw you heading into the forest. I was curious and I wondered where you were going. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but by the time I realized what was going on I couldn't get away without interrupting you."

Charles sighed. He couldn't really fault Kitty for being curious. The reason he had never taken the students this far into the forest was because of this cemetery. He didn't come here very often, only a couple of times a year, really, but when he did he wanted to be alone with his wife. For some reason, when he was here, at her grave, he was closer to her than he was anywhere else.

Outside the cemetery walls, he could push the loss away; bury himself in the day-to-day activities of training his students and running his school. But out here, it felt like Lizzie was with him and he could talk to her freely about anything. It was morbid, but it was true. Lizzie had been his life, but being around the places that she had loved was so painful that he couldn't bear it, so he locked that pain away and came here when he needed to unburden himself. Sometimes it felt like she was here with him, and he could almost sense her love and her presence.

He studied Kitty, who now looked truly miserable and was obviously wishing that she wasn't so curious. She was still looking at him, but her posture spoke of wanting to be elsewhere with every fiber of her being. Shaking his head, mostly to himself, he refocused his attention on the girl. "I'm not angry, Kitty. I just needed to be alone and…"

"And I was intruding on a very private moment. I'm sorry, Professor. I'll go back to the mansion and leave you alone," she finished. She started to turn as a matter of fact.

"Kitty…please stay," he called out to her.

She turned back, uncertainty written on her face. "Are you sure, sir?"

"Yes. I've been alone too much today. I think I need to spend some time with someone…someone who isn't dead, at least," he tried to joke, but it fell flat.

Kitty hesitated for another moment, before turning back and stepping up to him, although she hung back several paces as he turned his chair to face Lizzie's grave again. She was quiet, but finally her curiosity got the better of her. "Who were you talking to, Professor?"

He beckoned her to come up and look. She stepped up slowly, studying the carved angel on the headstone and reading the inscription. She puzzled over it for a few minutes before something she'd heard the Professor say clicked into her mind and it suddenly made sense. "Is she…was she your wife, Professor?"

He looked at her, not surprised that she'd made such a fast connection. "Yes, she is. We were only married for a little over a year before she died."

Kitty hesitated for a long moment, before the smaller stone on the Professor's right caught her attention and she stepped around him to study it. She saw the similarity in names, but it didn't make sense and she looked up at the Professor, confused.

He sighed, knowing what she was thinking. "That stone belongs to my daughter."

**Author's Note: So...someone else knows the truth now! Want to know what happens next? Read and review for the answers!**


	10. Chapter 9: Discoveries

**Chapter Nine: Discoveries**

**Author's Note: Hello all! I'm back! I apologize for the incredible lateness of this chapter. I've actually had it written for almost two weeks, but I never heard back from my betas, and I didn't want to keep you waiting any longer, so I decided to post. Just a couple of things to mention. I have started a new job as a middle school teacher, and my writing time will be limited for the next few weeks, so don't be surprised if there is another long wait between chapters. Also, I'm not entirely happy with the quote at the beginning of the chapter, but it was the best I could find. On that note, I'm sending out a call for help. If anyone knows of any really good quotes (on any subject) please send them to me in a review with the author of the quote. If I use it, I'll give you credit!**

With that out of the way, on with the story!!

_**Chapter Nine: Discoveries**_

"_Thou hast her, France: let her be thine; for we  
Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see  
That face of hers again…"  
-William Shakespeare (King Lear, I.i.283-285)_

Charles closed the gate to the cemetery with a resounding clang. Pulling out the key, he quickly locked the gate, but paused for a moment, gazing at the low-hanging branches of the willow tree that sheltered his wife's grave. _Until next time, my love_, he thought to himself with a mental sigh.

Together, he and Kitty headed back to the mansion. The trip was accomplished in silence. Charles was thinking about his wife and daughter, about his decision to put a date of death on his daughter's stone, and about the things that he had told Kitty that day. All of this was enough to put him into an introspective mood, even if he hadn't already been there just from the memories that assaulted him this day.

Kitty on the other hand was still in shock over everything that she had learned about the Professor that day. For some reason, she simply couldn't wrap her head around the thought that the Professor had been married and had a daughter. She didn't know why she was so shocked, though. The Professor was human, even if he was a mutant. He had as much right to a family as anyone else. It was just that, given what she thought she'd known about him, he hadn't struck her as being interested in having a "traditional" family. He was so dedicated to his work and to the mutant cause…in her mind, that didn't leave much time for a family. Now, she understood that his obsession with the school and his work was his way of pushing aside the grief from losing both his wife and his daughter.

After several minutes, they emerged from the woods and turned to head back to the house. Just before they reached the veranda, Kitty paused and touched the Professor's arm, drawing his attention to herself.

"Yes, Kitty?"

"I-I'm sorry I followed you out there without asking your permission, Professor, but I'm glad that you told me…everything," Kitty began awkwardly. "I won't tell anyone else without your permission, I promise."

Xavier was quiet for a moment. "I appreciate that, Kitty. I'm sure that sooner or later, I'll need to tell the rest of the school, but for the time being, I prefer that it be kept quiet."

"I understand, Professor."

Xavier nodded and headed back into the house, intending to catch up on the work he'd neglected that day, as well as view the tapes of the students' session in the Danger Room that day.

Kitty watched him go, then retreated to the tree where she'd been planning to sit and read and listen to some music earlier. Climbing the tree quickly, she settled herself in the little hollow and slipped her headphones on, but didn't press "Play".

_I wish there was something I could do for the Professor_, Kitty thought to herself. _He's done so much for everyone here…keeping his secret just doesn't seem like its enough. But what more can I do? I can't bring his wife back to life, and there's no way I could find his daughter for him…_

Kitty suddenly sat bolt upright. Was there any reason that she _couldn't_ try to locate the Professor's daughter? She was fairly good with a computer…maybe she could use those skills to try to locate Elizabeth and find a way to bring her home.

She hurried inside and spent the rest of the afternoon thinking about how she could go about searching for the Professor's daughter. She was careful to keep her thoughts behind the mental shields that the Professor had taught her to use to keep from projecting her thoughts to him and Jean. She didn't want to get his hopes up if nothing turned up.

By the time that curfew rolled around, Kitty felt that she had a fairly good idea of how to begin her search for Elizabeth Xavier…now it only waited until morning to put her plan into effect. As she got ready for bed and then slid beneath the sheets of the room that she shared with Rogue, she almost couldn't keep her anticipation to herself.

* * *

_She was standing on the edge of the cliff that overlooked the bay below the mansion. She frowned, wondering how she had gotten here. The last thing that she remembered was getting ready for bed. But now, instead of her simple white nightgown, she was wearing her usual outfit of jeans and a baby-pink shirt. Turning around, she could see the mansion, and everything looked dark and quiet, which was normal since it was just barely dawn.__Sunnydale High, April 24th, 1999_

"Hello, Kitty."

Kitty spun around again, but she couldn't see the owner of the voice anywhere. For all intents and purposes, she was alone on the cliff.

A musical laugh seemed to answer that thought. "You are never alone, Kitty."

Kitty spun back around to face the mansion again, and this time she saw the owner of the voice. It was a young woman, in her early twenties, Kitty guessed, seated on the stone bench that marked the end of the path leading to the mansion. She was dressed in a long, flowing, white gown, and a very faint glow seemed to surround her.

"Who are you?" Kitty asked, eyeing the woman carefully.

"Simply a friend. I need to talk to you, Kitty. Please, come and sit down," the woman replied, patting the bench beside her.

Kitty moved a few steps closer, but made no move to sit on the bench. "Who are you?" she asked again.

"My name is Elizabeth, but you can call me Lizzie," she replied, a warm smile lighting up her face.

"Lizzie? Are…are you Professor Xavier's wife?" Kitty asked.

Lizzie's smile broadened. "Yes, I am."

"Are you a ghost?" Kitty wondered as she gazed at the woman.

"Not exactly," Lizzie replied. "Please, come and sit here Kitty. You have nothing to fear from me. I just want to speak to you for a few minutes."

Kitty hesitated for another few seconds before finally moving over to the bench and perching on the edge of it. She wasn't sure she really trusted Lizzie…if that's even who she really was…but she did want to hear what the woman had to say.

Up close, Kitty could see that Lizzie, while still young in appearance, was closer to her thirties than her early twenties. She had bright, vibrant green eyes and long blonde hair that trailed freely down her back. Her smile was warm and soothing. Despite her reservations, Kitty felt herself relaxing.

"I wanted to thank you, Kitty."

"Thank me? For what?"

Lizzie's smile grew sad. "For supporting Charles. For listening to him today, and just being there."

"It was sort of an accident that I was there," Kitty began awkwardly.

"Nevertheless, you were there for him, and you were willing to listen to him. No one has done that for him for many years, because he never allowed himself the chance to unburden himself. His friends were there for him after my death, but when our daughter was taken from him, he pushed everyone away and refused to share his feelings. He kept them bottled up and became a recluse for seventeen years, until he finally decided to open his home to all of you. You're the first person that he's been able to talk to about me and about Elizabeth, and for that, I thank you."

"Have you been watching him all this time?" Kitty asked, slightly amazed.

"To a degree, yes. When he's needed me, I've been there, even if he never knew it, and I was there in the cemetery today when the two of you were talking."

"Well, I…I'm glad that I was able to help him. But is that the only reason that you're here now?"

Lizzie shook her head. "No, little one. I've actually come here to ask a favor of you."

"A favor?"

Lizzie nodded and her smile brightened again, a tiny bit. "You have shown that you are compassionate and I know you care about Charles."

"Well, yeah, we all do. He's done so much for all of us, letting us live in his mansion, helping us learn to control our powers…" Kitty replied.

Lizzie nodded again. "I understand, Kitty, and I am not surprised at what Charles is offering all of you, to be honest. As much as he loves science, teaching is what he was truly meant to do. Watching him all these years, knowing that there were so many other young ones that he could have offered his knowledge to, but seeing that he wasn't, hurt me deeply. I know how passionate he was about his students before my death, and even after my death, he was still eager to be back in a classroom. When Elizabeth disappeared, that part of him disappeared as well. But he's begun to rediscover it, and that's thanks to all of you."

Kitty just shrugged, uncertain of how she should respond to the older woman.

After a moment, Lizzie shook her head and refocused her attention on Kitty. "At any rate, the favor I have to ask you is important, Kitty. Within a matter of days, Charles is going to get some news that is going to shake him badly. He's going to need someone to be there to support him while he works through the consequences of this news, and I was hoping that you'd be there to help him."

"Me? How?"

"A smile, a word, an offer to listen if he needs to talk," Lizzie replied.

"Is this…bad news?" Kitty asked.

Lizzie frowned. "Not exactly…but the consequences and the outcome of his decisions once he hears it could go either way. He won't be reacting logically when he gets the news and he'll need someone there to steady him if things are to work out the way they should."

Kitty sighed. "It would help if I knew what news this is."

Lizzie hesitated. "I shouldn't tell you…but…" she frowned, obviously weighing her choices before she nodded. "All right, Kitty. The news that Charles is going to receive is that his daughter is still alive. He's going to find her again, Kitty."

Kitty's eyes widened. "She's been alive all this time?"

Lizzie nodded.

Kitty sat there stunned, thinking of her plans to try to locate the Professor's daughter and realizing that she wouldn't need them any longer. Unless…  
"I'm not the one who finds Elizabeth, am I?"

Lizzie shook her head. "Oh, no, Kitty. No, Elizabeth was meant to be returned to Charles, at the right time, and that time is now. Or rather, in a few days. No, his Cerebro device will locate her."

Kitty just shook her head, at the height of information overload, trying to assimilate all of this information. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. "Lizzie, if you've known that your daughter was alive all this time, why didn't you tell the Professor? If you can show up in my dreams, well, I'm assuming this is a dream, like this, why couldn't you go to him and tell him this yourself, and why didn't you do it years ago and spare him his grief?"

Lizzie's smile was sad. "I wanted to, Kitty, very much. But I wasn't permitted to."

" 'Permitted to'?" Kitty asked.

Lizzie nodded. "Kitty, everything happens for a reason. I was meant to die in childbirth to bring our daughter into the world. She was meant to be taken from Charles, because she has a very important destiny ahead of her. If Elizabeth had been raised here, with Charles, she would never have been able to fulfill her destiny. Now, however, she's at the stage in her life and in her destiny where she's being called home to Charles, because she'll need him in order to fulfill the rest of her destiny. Charles couldn't know that she was still alive, because if he'd found her too soon, it could have altered her destiny. All I could do was wait, and watch, and offer what comfort I could to keep his hope alive."

"What about free will? You say everything happens for a reason, that your daughter has this destiny…doesn't she have a choice?"

Lizzie nodded. "Oh, yes. She has a choice, and she's already made decisions that have set her on this path. More choices lie ahead of her, and Charles will be a very important influence in those choices." Lizzie sighed. "I wish I could explain it better to you, Kitty. The only thing that I can really say is that there is a plan for everyone, but the day-to-day choices that you make determine the outcome."

Kitty chewed that thought over in her mind. "Well, all right. I guess I'll help."

Lizzie's smile was tinged with relief, as was her voice when she spoke again. "I'm glad to hear that Kitty. You'll wake up soon, but you won't have any memories of this conversation. All you'll know is that you need to help Charles for the next few days."

"I just wish I understood more," Kitty admitted.

Lizzie leaned forward and gently kissed Kitty's forehead. "I know, Kitty. Faith is one of the most powerful forces in the world, but it's also the hardest one to accept. All I can say is that you have to have faith and you'll need to help Charles have faith." She studied Kitty intently for a long moment. "You have an important role to play in all of this too, Kitty. I can't say anymore than that, but just know that everything will work out as it should."

Before Kitty could respond to that thought, everything grew dark and the cliffside scene faded into blackness. The figure of Lizzie was the last thing to fade, the gentle glow that surrounded her lingering in the darkness for some time before finally vanishing.

* * *

Buffy hurried down the hallway towards her next class. Wesley had ambushed her earlier and she'd missed the warning bell. She had about two minutes to get from one end of the school where the library was, across the campus to the math wing.

_Why is this always happening to me? she wondered. Like it's not hard enough being a Slayer…but no…I also have to deal with High School and an over-eager, pompous Watcher! Those two do not mix!_

She was moving quickly and not really paying attention to where she was going when she suddenly was brought up short as she slammed into Principal Snyder. The collision knocked them both back a step and Buffy was jarred from her thoughts. "Principal Snyder! I'm sorry sir," she began, only to be interrupted.

"And where are you off to in such a hurry, Miss Summers? Cutting class no doubt?" Snyder snapped.

Buffy shook her head quickly. "No, sir. I'm on my way to Trigonometry. I had a free last period and I didn't hear the bell. I'm running late." She held up her math book as evidence.

Snyder frowned fiercely, but nodded. "On your way then. And no running!" he snapped as Buffy stepped around him and started back down the hallway again.

Buffy started moving at a fast walk, glancing at her watch. _Damn…only one minute. I'm going to be late again._ She sighed. Just before she passed out of earshot of Snyder (she had a longer hearing range than most people because of her Slayer powers) she heard him muttering to himself.

_**"Stupid girl. I knew I never should have allowed her back into the school, trouble maker that she is."**_

Buffy almost went back to confront him, but reminded herself that she had to get to class. That didn't keep the scowl off of her face. She was so sick and tired of jumping through Snyder's hoops. _Just another month or so and I'll never have to deal with him again_, she reminded herself. _Unless he gets turned into a vampire, in which case I'll gladly stake him._

She sighed and hurried to class, picking up her pace as soon as she was out of eyesight…and slid into the classroom just as the bell rang. _Made it! Score one for me!_ She hurried to her desk and pulled out her materials, grateful that she'd actually done the homework from the night before.

* * *

_Bayville, New York…two days later_

Kitty wasn't sure what had caused it, but for some reason she was very aware of the Professor the last few days. She'd offered him a smile and a warm greeting every morning when he'd joined them for breakfast. That wasn't unusual, but usually it was the Professor who initiated morning greetings, since the students usually needed food before they were awake enough to hold any type of conversation that didn't require grunts.

All during the school day, she had gone about her normal class routine without any problems, and she was even willing to face her most difficult classes without her usual groaning and complaints to the rest of her housemates. When she got back to the mansion, the very first thing she did was find Professor Xavier in his study and say hello to him and tell him all about her day and show him the results that she'd gotten on her latest assignments. They were exceptionally good grades, even for her. She was much better in computers and the math and science classes than she was in history or English.

Professor Xavier was proud of her, Kitty knew. He took a keen interest in their grades, insisting on seeing every paper that they got back. He had taken them in and he felt it was his job to be fully informed on everything going on at the high school, and in cases like Scott and Rogue, he was their acting guardian, so he was the one that was called for parent-teacher conferences. He actually acted in that respect to all of the X-Men, but for all the other students, he also reported on their progress to their parents. Poor grades resulted in a loss of privileges and sometimes additional tutoring, handled by himself, Ororo, or Logan, depending on what the subject matter was.

After talking to the Professor, she would head to her room to change for the afternoon training sessions. They were getting better with each session, although they all had a great deal to learn. Professor Xavier was convinced that their powers would continue to develop and he was going to push them to their absolute limits.

That was fine with Kitty. She wanted complete control of her abilities. It had been bad enough when her powers had first manifested and she kept unexpectedly walking or falling through things and she had no idea why it was happening to her.

As she came back to her room after the most recent session, she shook her head again, wondering why she was spending so much time thinking about the Professor the last few days. Sure, the things that he had told her about his family had been surprising, but that didn't explain what was going on since then. She just had this sense, like a tickle in her mind, that she needed to stay close to her mentor and keep an eye on him, which made absolutely no sense.

Shrugging off the odd thought, she quickly gathered up her clothes and headed for the women's bathroom so that she could shower and change out of her uniform before all the hot water was taken.

* * *

_Sunnydale…same time_ Buffy thought in anger as she again picked up on Willow's thoughts about Oz. _Why is this happening to me? I thought that the potion that Angel made for me made this stupid telepathy go away!_

Not again!

It hadn't taken Buffy very long to realize that, somehow, the telepathy that she had been 'gifted' with by the demon she had killed a week ago had unexpectedly come back. She was dreading a return of the chaotic white noise that came from not being able to block out the thoughts of the people around her. Thus far, it seemed that she was only able to sense Willow, Oz, Giles, and Xander, with a few exceptions, like Snyder a few days ago, and occasionally her mom. It was starting to drive her crazy, but she didn't want to tell Giles and see the look on his face.

_**I wonder if Oz and the Dingoes will play that song that Oz said they wrote for their girlfriends when we go to the Bronze tonight?**_ Willow's thoughts drifted back into Buffy's head again.

_That does it!_ Buffy thought. She stood up abruptly from the table where she was sitting with all of her friends at lunch. Her abrupt movement caught her friends by surprise and the conversation cut off suddenly.

"Buffy? What is it?" Willow asked.

"Nothing. I just need to go and talk to Giles. You guys enjoy the rest of your lunch and I'll meet you in class later," Buffy said, waving Willow back down when the redhead started to rise.

Buffy left the cafeteria and headed straight for the library. She traveled the distance in record time and pushed the double doors open. Glancing around, she saw Giles and Wesley up to their eyebrows in books, seated at the conference table as they continued their research on the Ascension. "Giles, we have a problem."

The two Watchers, former and current, looked up with a start from their research. "Buffy?" Giles asked, standing as he caught sight of the expression on his Slayer's face.

"It's back, Giles. That 'aspect of the demon' telepathy is back."

* * *

_Bayville…same time_

Charles sat at his desk in his study, going over some paperwork on the results of the students' Danger Room sessions for the last few days. Logan and Ororo were both very proud of the kids, as was Charles. Logan was of the opinion that it was time to increase the difficulty levels of the missions that they were designing for the students again, and Charles was inclined to agree. Their times were getting faster and faster every time they ran a scenario, and they were truly working as a team, at least for the most part.

A knock on the open door brought him out of his thoughts and he looked up to see Kitty peeking in at him. He smiled at her and waved her in. "What can I do for you, Kitty?"

Kitty stepped up next to the desk. "I was wondering what you're planning on doing for me during my next individual session? I've got full control of my phasing ability. What do you want me to work on next?"

Charles steepled his fingers and regarded the young woman. "I was actually just looking over the results from everyone's last individual sessions. I have noticed that you do have control of your phasing, which is quite impressive, but you still have a tendency to project your thoughts. Jean has mentioned several times that you tend to get too excited during the sessions and she can usually anticipate what you're going to do because she picks it up with her telepathy. My thought was to start working with you on learning to shield your thoughts better."

Kitty frowned as she thought about it. "I didn't realize I was projecting, Professor. I always keep the shields you taught me up."

Charles nodded. "It's not uncommon, Kitty, especially when you're excited. Sometimes emotions can override telepathic shields, and that makes it easy for telepaths to pick up on your projections."

"That makes sense, I guess," Kitty admitted.

Charles was about to continue when an alarm began beeping softly from his desk. He glanced down in surprise and then tapped out a command on his computer, silencing the alarm.

"What was that?" Kitty asked.

"Cerebro," Charles said, maneuvering his chair away from his desk and towards a blank wall at the back of the room. He stopped in front of the wall and reached out, touching a small button on the wall that Kitty had noticed before, but never known what it was for. At his touch, the entire section of the wall slid upward, into the ceiling, revealing a sophisticated computer console hidden behind it.

Charles moved closer and began tapping out some commands on the computer before he reached over and picked up a helmet attached to the computer by several wires and placed it on his head. After a moment, a computerized female voice spoke.

**"Discovery. New mutant signature."**

"Triangulate location," Charles replied.

There was a series of beeps from the computer as it responded to the command. Kitty watched in fascination. She'd never seen the Professor's sophisticated mutant detection computer at work before.

Another whirring sound and a map appeared on the screen. **"Location triangulated. Location: Sunnydale, California."** The map quickly panned to show an overview of the state of California, before a red dot began blinking on the map, indicating the location of the new mutant.

Charles frowned in surprise. "California? That's interesting. I don't think we've discovered a mutant from that far away." He paused in thought, before speaking again. "Confirm identity of new mutant."

**"Identity confirmed."**

"Display," Xavier ordered.

The computer beeped again and a second monitor lit up with a wire-frame image. **"New mutant identified. Name: Elizabeth Anne Summers. Age: 18."**

Charles sucked in a startled breath. _Elizabeth Anne? No, it can't be. There's thousands of children with that name across the country. It's a coincidence_, he told himself firmly. Best not to get his hopes up. Besides, the name didn't completely match. _But the name…and she's the right age…_

Kitty was watching the computer with interest, and almost missed the tell-tale hitch of breath from the Professor as the computer identified the mutant. But as soon as she heard the name, she understood the Professor's surprise. She recognized the name too. She reached out and laid a hand on the Professor's shoulder. "Professor? Are you all right?"

Charles shook off his shock. "Yes, I'm fine Kitty. It's just an unusual coincidence." He smiled at his student. "It just caught me by surprise, given everything that's happened in the last few days." Turning back to Cerebro, he issued another command. "Construct and overlay image of new mutant."

**"Working."**

There was a steady whirring from the computer as it accessed records of the identified mutant from both public and secured areas and began building an image of the young woman. First the body, from the feet up. The computer pulled the image of a young, slender, petite girl wearing hip-slung jeans and a trendy, comfortable top appropriate for the California heat. Then the computer added more details to the face and head. Long blonde hair, caught up in a ponytail. Then the face began to resolve. The image wasn't exactly clear. There wasn't a lot of detail in the face, but it seemed that the girl had green eyes.

Charles tensed again. _It couldn't possibly be…not after all these years._ "Computer, display face only and enhance."

A beep of acknowledgement and the screen divided itself between the full body model of the girl and a wire-frame of just her head and face. The computer began to take the information and build the girl's features up onto the new model. A long, oval-shaped face, with lightly tanned skin. Wide green eyes, delicately arched brows, a straight nose, full lips. After another moment there was another beep and the computer spoke again. **"Enhancement completed.**

Kitty studied the girl. She was strikingly pretty and there was laughter and life in her face. But at the same time, there was something familiar about her, but she couldn't place it. She turned to the Professor, only to see him frozen in shock, staring at the image of the girl, his already pale skin even paler. "Professor? What is it?"

"Lizzie…" he breathed.

**Don't forget to read and review, and don't forget to leave me quotes if you want credit!**


	11. Chapter 10: Information Gathering

_A/N: *very slowly creeps out of hiding* Uh…hello, readers! *waves shyly* I apologize profusely for the long time between updates. My muse abandoned me, my new job went down the toilet, I had to move, and the holidays interfered. But hopefully I'm back on track now, and hopefully you won't have to wait as long for the next update. *wince* I know I've said that before…_

_A/N 2: Thanks to whoever nominated this story to the "Crossing Over Awards"! I was shocked to see the notification in my inbox. Please, please, please, vote for my story!_

_**Chapter Ten: Information Gathering**_

"_And thou shalt in thy daughter see,_

_This picture once resembled thee."_

_-Ambrose Philips_

_Lizzie…oh, Lizzie…_was the only thought flashing through Charles' mind as he stared at the image of the young woman on the computer screen. The resemblance to his wife was uncanny. He had suspected that his daughter would look like her mother as she grew older, but this…

"Professor?" Kitty asked, placing her hand on his shoulder. She was concerned about her mentor. His face had gone chalk white with shock and his jaw was clenched so hard that it was trembling, as were his hands where they gripped the arms of his wheelchair. Whatever he was seeing had shocked him badly. When he didn't respond, Kitty shook his shoulder gently. "Professor? Are you all right?"

Her gentle touch drew him partly out of his shock, though his eyes remained fixed on the image of the young woman in front of him. "Y-yes. Yes, I'm fine." IN reality, however, his thoughts were racing. _I've found her. There's absolutely no doubt this time. This has to be my Elizabeth. She looks too much like Lizzie for it to be a coincidence. She's the right age, the right name. I've found her at last._

Shaking his head sharply, he turned to the keyboard in front of him and began typing out a lightning-fast series of commands, ordering the computer to pull all possible information about his daughter and compile it. Cerebro began to whir, as it began to locate and compile school records, anything that could be found in public sources, and a great deal of information that the general public didn't have access to.

While the computer was working, the Professor reached out with his telepathy and sought out Logan's mind. _**Logan**__._

_**Yeah, Chuck?**_ came the sarcastic, gruff reply. Logan hated this form of communication, although he accepted it as a reality. The only benefit he saw in it was the strategic value it brought in a fight.

_**Logan, would you please prep the jet for me? I need to make a trip and I need to leave as soon as possible.**_ Xavier tried to keep his mental "voice" even and calm, but some of his anxiety leaked through despite his best efforts.

_**Sure thing, Chuck. What's the big emergency?**_

_**It's personal, Logan. Please notify me when the jet is prepped,**_ Charles replied before breaking the telepathic link with his old friend. Just as he did so, Cerebro beeped softly, letting him know that the data retrieval program was completed. He tapped out another command that sent the data to be burned onto a disc so that he could look at it in transit to Sunnydale.

Kitty watched her mentor as he made his preparations before she finally spoke up, as the little urging, the sense that had told her to stay close to the Professor, blossomed. "Professor, wait a minute."

He barely looked up as he continued his preparations. "What is it, Kitty? I'm a little bit busy. We can continue to discuss your training when I get back from California."

Kitty shook her head and stepped forward, interposing herself between the Professor and Cerebro's terminal. "Professor, slow down and think about this for a moment. If this is your daughter, and I don't doubt that it is, given your reaction, you need to think about this logically."

Xavier looked up at her, his eyes cold. The expression on his face sent shivers down Kitty's spine, but she didn't back down. "Are you suggesting that I not go after my daughter?"

Kitty shook her head no, then yes. Confused, she shook her head no again. "No, that's not what I'm saying, Professor. I'm just saying that you shouldn't rush into this. Think about it. Her name is different. It's not Elizabeth Xavier anymore. It's Elizabeth Summers. That probably means, whatever happened to her, she must have been adopted at some point, and she probably doesn't even realize that. She will have no idea who you are, and if you just show up and claim to be her birth father, she's going to think you're crazy and you'll lose her forever."

Charles paused as Kitty's words sunk in. As much as he wanted to rush out to California to get his daughter back, he had to admit that Kitty had a point. His daughter likely knew nothing about him except what she might have heard on the news. Even though he had been something of a recluse after she disappeared, he hadn't stopped his genetic research, and he'd published several books over the years. While he doubted that a teenage girl would be interested in advanced genetic research, especially if she was only now learning about her mutant powers, she might have simply heard about his research, or perhaps a teacher had mentioned it at her school. She would have no reason to associate herself with him.

After a moment he slumped back in his chair and sighed. "You're right Kitty. I let my emotions get the better of me." He fisted his hand and resisted the urge to slam it down on the arm of his chair. "She's just so close…and it's been so long."

Kitty put a hand on his shoulder. "I know, Professor. But you just don't know enough yet. You know where she is, and you know how to find her. Take a few days, find out more about her. Maybe you can find someone who can look into her past for you, figure out how she ended up all the way in California?"

Xavier shook his head. "Cerebro had compiled all the data that there is on Elizabeth Summers, from every single source it could find, both public and private. Everything I need to know is in that data."

"Maybe not," Kitty said. "What about her parents? How did she end up with them? Why? That information might not be in her data." The young teen shook her head. "A computer might not be able to find all that information either. Somehow, she got from New York to California. A person would have a much better chance of tracing her movements. If you've been looking for her all this time, you must have had a private detective on the case at some point."

Xavier nodded. "I did actually. I hired someone when the police declared that the case had gone cold, about a year after she disappeared. He worked the case for two years without finding anything, but he promised that if any new evidence turned up he would get back on the case."

Kitty pointed at the screen. "I'd say that's new evidence."

Xavier nodded. "Yes, but no one outside this mansion knows about Cerebro. I can't exactly use it as evidence in a court of law."

Kitty bit her lip in thought. "What about a newspaper article? A picture maybe? If there's something like that, maybe you could tell the detective that you found the article and the resemblance was what caught your attention?"

Xavier frowned in thought. Why wasn't he thinking of these things? He prided himself on being cool-headed and logical at all times.

_Be honest with yourself. It's Elizabeth. You've never been able to control your emotions when she or Lizzie were involved_, he reminded himself. And after so long, losing hope, resigning himself to the situation that his daughter was lost to him for good…the emotions were bouncing all over the place now that there was a solid lead to go on.

"You're right, Kitty. I'll check the data that Cerebro has compiled, start trying to piece together her life, and then I'll call Mr. Walker and let him know so he can start working on it from his end." He smiled at her. "Thank you, Kitty. I would have rushed off and lost my chance at finding her again if you hadn't been here."

Kitty blushed. "You're welcome, Professor." She hesitated. "Do you want some help sorting through the information? I'm not bad when it comes to data analyzing. My computer teacher told me that when she graded my last project."

Xavier's smile widened a little. "I'd appreciate that, Kitty. Thank you." Realizing that he still had to tell Logan about the change in plans, he reached out again. _**Logan?**_

_**Jet's almost ready, Charles. I need another five minutes or so to finish fueling.**_

_**Don't bother, Logan. I've changed my mind. There's some things I need to tend to here first, and some people I need to contact. It'll probably be a couple of days before I can go out. I'm sorry for the confusion.**_

He felt his friend's confusion through the link. _**What's going on, Charles? Five minutes ago you were acting like this was a big emergency. Now you're completely calm. What gives?**_

_**I'm sorry, Logan. I'll try to have an explanation for you soon,**_ Charles replied before he broke the link.

Kitty looked around. "Where would you like me to start?"

Charles frowned as he thought about it, trying to figure out the most logical and efficient way to get information about his daughter. After a moment, he typed a series of commands into the computer. There was a beep and then a second screen off to the left of the main console flickered on and a list of data began to scroll down the screen. "This is a list of all the newspaper articles that had any mention of my daughter in them. Why don't you sort through them and see if you can find any that have both a picture of her and her name listed. Start with the most recent ones and work your way back."

Kitty nodded and pulled a chair over in front of the console and started going through the list of links to the articles. Meanwhile, Charles backed his chair away from the computer and moved over to his desk. He opened a file drawer in the desk and quickly sorted through the files until he found the one he was looking for and pulled it out.

The manila folder was slim and only had the word "Elizabeth" written on the tab along the top of the folder. Flipping it open, he reached for the first paper in the stack, the last report that the detective that he had hired had sent to him about the progress in looking for his daughter. Right on the top of the page was the man's contact information. Charles reached for the phone and dialed.

* * *

_Sunnydale High School…_

"Giles, what are we going to do?" Buffy demanded, a hint of fear in her eyes. "I don't want to hear all of that white noise again, and there's not another demon heart that we can conveniently use to cure it, which, if I remember correctly, was supposed to cure it the first time around!"

"Buffy, calm down, please," Giles replied, removing his glasses and reaching for a handkerchief. "Now, I don't know why the potion didn't work the first time. All the research that Wesley and I did indicated that it should have worked. I don't know what went wrong, but trust me, we will find out what happened and help you before it gets that bad again." He walked over and rested a hand on his Slayer's shoulder. "Trust me, Buffy."

Buffy took a deep breath. "I do trust you, Giles. I just…" She looked up at her Watcher. "I'm scared, Giles. I don't want to hear all of that again. So far it seems to be limited to the Scoobies, but that's how it started last time. One or two voices, and then just a cacophony of noise."

"I know, Buffy. I know. It's not something that someone your age should ever have to deal with," Giles reassured her. "But don't worry. We'll get to the bottom of this and we'll take care of you." He regarded her seriously. "Do you think you can handle it until we have time to figure out what went wrong?"

Buffy took a deep breath and tried to invoke one of the calming techniques that Giles had taught her. "If it stays limited to just the Scoobies…yeah, I think I can handle it for a few days."

Giles smiled at her. "I know this is a bad time to have to deal with this, Buffy. Just hang on, and if it starts to get to be more than you can bear, let us know."

Buffy finally returned his smile. "I will, Giles. Just…hurry?"

* * *

_Bayville, New York…_

"I know it's been a long time, David. But this time I'm sure I've found her." Charles listened as the private investigator spoke. "I know I've said that before, David. Yes. There's too many similarities. Her last name is different, but her first and middle names are the same, and she looks almost exactly like my wife did at that age. I don't have any doubts."

Just then Kitty came over with a piece of paper that she had printed and handed it to the Professor. It was an article about his daughter having helped to stop a fellow classmate from being mugged. According to the article, she'd come upon the assault and jumped in to help her classmate since she had self-defense and martial arts training. She'd managed to disrupt the attackers long enough for another one of her friends to call the police. He skimmed the article.

"David, I found her picture in the paper out in California. She's going by the name Elizabeth Summers. The listed address is…somewhere on Revello Drive, in Sunnydale, California. The house number isn't given. I'll fax it to you now." He paused again while David spoke. "I'll pay for your plane ticket out there, and back if necessary, David. Just add it to the bill that you send me. Yes, I remember the contract we signed, I have it right here in front of me. David, please…just find me some more information about her. I know I'm right this time. Thank you. I'll fax the article out now. Leave as soon as you can. Right. Good-bye." He hung up the phone and turned to the fax machine, sending the copy of the article to David Walker.

"Is everything all right, Professor?" Kitty asked when the Professor turned back to her.

"Yes, Kitty. It was just…it's old history, and David didn't want to get my hopes up if I'm wrong. There were so many times when we were both sure that we'd found her, but it never panned out. But I know she has to be my daughter." He sighed quietly, before looking back at Kitty. "Did you find anything else?"

Kitty hesitated. "Well…yes, but I'm not sure that you're going to like it."

Charles frowned and moved his chair back over towards Cerebro. "What do you mean?"

Kitty bit her lip for a moment, before entering a command into the computer and pulling up an article. "I searched through all these newspaper articles, and these in particular caught my eye. From last spring, just before school let out for the summer."

Charles looked at the computer screen and began reading it. It was apparently about a murder/assault at Sunnydale High School. Police had arrived on the scene to find one dead and several injured. He frowned and looked at Kitty. "I don't' see what this has to do with my daughter."

Kitty highlighted a section of the article further down than he had read and enlarged it. "This part, right here."

He turned back and began to read.

_Police tonight are looking for the suspect in this crime. The suspect is one Buffy Anne Summers, 17, a junior at Sunnydale High School. Police describe her as 5'2", 100 lbs. blonde hair, green eyes. According to police and witness statements, the suspect was found bent over the body of the dead student and when police attempted to take her into custody for questioning, she assaulted an officer and fled._

"_Summers is a trouble-maker and a gang leader. She's been involved in several fights and acts of vandalism against the school," said Armin Snyder, Principal of Sunnydale High School. "It doesn't surprise me that she's now committed murder."_

_The murdered girl has not yet been identified, but the other victims of the attack were Willow Rosenberg, 17, and Alexander Harris, 17, both juniors at Sunnydale High School._

_Police are involved in a manhunt tonight for Summers. Police warn to be extremely cautious of approaching Summers if she is seen and to consider her armed and dangerous._

Charles skimmed the article and frowned, still not seeing the connection. He looked at Kitty again. "What does this have to do with my daughter? The surnames and the middle names are similar, but…"

Kitty interrupted him. "Professor, the name Buffy…it's considered a nickname for Elizabeth. Not always, but in this case…"

Charles paled as he realized the implications. "She was suspected of murder? Are there any other articles about the case?"

Kitty nodded. "This one came out the evening that the body was discovered. Two days later, a follow-up article was published naming an "unknown assailant". Apparently the other two students that were attacked claim that your daughter is their friend and that she wasn't anywhere near the library the night of the attack. They said a woman who called herself Drusilla was the one who attacked them. They also identified the girl as Kendra, a student from Jamaica who was a friend of theirs as well. She had just come into town the night she was killed to visit them."

"And the police stopped treating Elizabeth as a suspect?" Charles asked, feeling relieved. Not that he believed that his daughter was a murderer, but it was still a relief to know that she wasn't a fugitive.

Kitty nodded. "Yeah. They called off the search for her and focused the search on the woman that the students identified, but there was never any indication if she was found."

"Was there anything else?" Charles asked looking at the list of newspaper articles displayed on the computer screen.

"Not that I've found so far," Kitty admitted. "I started with the most recent one and was working my way back, the way you suggested. Would you like me to keep working on that?"

Charles nodded. "Yes, please, Kitty. I'm going to look at some of this other information that Cerebro collected." He smiled at her. "Thank you for your help, Kitty."

"I'm glad that I can help, Professor. It's the least I can do, considering everything that you've done for me," the teenager replied. Before Charles could say anything in response to that, Kitty turned her attention back to the computer screen.

Charles shook his head and turned his attention back to his own pile of data to sort through. There was a lot of information here, and the more he learned about his daughter now, the more options he would have to reach out to her.

_Don't forget to review!_


	12. Chapter 11: Anxiety of Indecision

**_Author's Note: *slinks slowly out of hiding and waves shyly* Hey everyone! I'm terribly sorry about the delay in getting this chapter out. I've currently been held hostage by my Narnia muse, who's been forcing me to slave away on my Narnia story Between Families (my first attempt at romance, and one that I am quite proud of). After being nagged by several people, including pixie freak and ebony, I managed to sneak in a few hours of work on this chapter. I don't know when I'll be able to update again, but I have hopes that it will be soon._**

**_On another note, I'm still placing a call out for quotes. If anyone knows any really good quotes - on any subject, but particularly families, children, and fathers - and you send it to me along with the author of the quote, and I end up using it, I will give you credit in the chapter. Don't forget to leave me reviews...those are what will encourage me to finish this story faster._**

_**Chapter Eleven: Anxiety of Indecision**_

"_Nothing diminishes anxiety faster than action."_

_-Walter Anderson, __The Confidence Course__, 1997_

_Sunnydale, California…evening…several days later…_

Buffy slipped quietly into Angel's mansion, easily spotting him sitting at the fireplace hearth, a book in his hands. Despite her silence, he still looked up as she entered, before placing his book down and coming over to wrap her in his arms. She went willingly to him, wrapping her own arms around him and allowing herself to relax for the first time all day.

Thus far, it seemed that her reacquired telepathy was only limited to the Scoobies, but even that was almost too much for her and she'd found herself trying to avoid her friends as much as possible, and when she couldn't avoid them, she'd been tense and on edge. For some odd reason, her tension seemed to be working to block out their thoughts, but she couldn't remain tense and alert twenty-four hours a day, and as soon as she slipped, she'd let the thoughts back in.

With Angel, however, she felt safe relaxing. Ever since he had explained that vampires were immune to telepathy, she had felt some measure of relief, knowing that if it got too bad, she could go to Angel and be safe. His mansion was far enough on the outskirts of Sunnydale that no one else lived close, so she didn't have to worry about sensing a stranger's thoughts.

Angel simply held her, giving her the comfort and security that she needed at the moment. Giles had called him when Buffy realized that her telepathy had returned, so he could help them start looking for a solution. She knew Giles still didn't fully trust Angel, and that her former Watcher still resented what Angelus had done to Jenny, but Angel's obvious regret for his actions, and his eagerness to help, had gone a long way towards smoothing over their relationship.

Finally, Buffy pulled back and gazed into Angel's dark eyes, which were filled with compassion. She wondered why the others couldn't seem to understand that Angel and Angelus were two different people. It was all in the eyes, and she'd always been able to read Angel so well, even when the others thought that he was mysterious and reclusive.

"Thanks, Angel," she whispered. "I needed this."

"It's getting harder, isn't it?" Angel asked quietly.

Buffy shrugged. "I don't know. So far it seems to be limited to the Scoobies, but I don't know how much longer that is going to last. And it's getting harder and harder to block the Scoobies out. I haven't told them yet, because of the way they freaked out last time." She sighed. "It's not fair, Angel. I know I thought this was an amazing ability the first time, but now…it sucks. No one should have the right to see into another person's mind."

Angel nodded slowly. "I agree, Buffy. Unfortunately, you can't control it at this moment, and you didn't ask for it. I'm still looking into the reason why the potion we gave you didn't work. All of the books I have on it indicated that it should have worked."

"I'm not angry, Angel. It wasn't your fault, or Giles' or Wesley's. You tried to help me, but something went wrong. I don't blame you for that."

"We're going to figure it out, Buffy. Just hang in there," Angel whispered, leaning over and kissing her on the forehead.

"I'm trying."

She sighed and hugged Angel one more time before stepping back. "I need to go. The others are expecting me."

"Do you want me to come back with you?" Angel asked quietly.

Oh, she did, but she knew that, like Giles, the rest of her friends still didn't fully trust Angel, and she didn't want to give them the opportunity to hurt his feelings, or vice versa. "No, its okay, Angel. I'd rather you stay here and keep looking for an answer."

"You have my word, Buffy. But if you need me, I'll come. You know that, right?" Angel pressed gently.

"I know," she whispered. "I'm counting on it."

*************************************************************

_Bayville, New York…_

Charles couldn't sleep.

He was roaming the halls of his mansion, his mind awhirl with all the information they had gathered over the past several days since Cerebro had located his daughter. Some of it had been enough to nearly make him physically ill, and other parts were just mentally disturbing.

He had never been this close to finding his daughter, in all the years that he had been searching for her. Every time the slightest clue had come to his attention, he had pursued it, desperate to find his daughter. But each time, he had been disappointed.

His efforts had been hindered for the longest time by the FBI. He understood that they were only doing their jobs, but it hadn't helped that he had been their number one suspect almost from the beginning.

_The shock of Agent Duncan's words rang through the small room. Charles stared from the paper in his hand, to the agent, to the handcuffs that he was holding. They honestly thought that he had something to do with his daughter's disappearance? How? Why would he do such a thing?_

"_Agent Duncan, this is unacceptable!" Susan was blocking the agent's path, every inch of her body radiating fury. "You cannot possibly believe that Charles had anything to do with Elizabeth's disappearance._

"_Dr. McGee, please step aside. We have enough evidence to hold him under suspicion," Agent McGee said calmly, although there was tension in his neck and shoulders. "I don't want to have to place you under arrest as well for obstructing an investigation."_

"_Susan…"_

_Everyone looked at Charles, who seemed resigned, yet quietly furious at the agents' intrusion. "I'll go with them, for now. Call Ian, tell him what has happened."_

"_Charles, this is ludicrous. They're railroading you!" Susan protested, not moving aside._

"_I know, Susan. Don't worry. Ian will sort all of this out," Charles assured her, maneuvering his chair from behind the desk and around where his friend stood blocking the agent's path. "Agent Duncan, you don't need the cuffs. I'm not about to run off on you," he continued, a bitter note entering his voice._

"_I'm sorry, Dr. Xavier. It's policy," the agent replied, sounding truly repentant, before he snapped the cuffs onto Charles' wrists, although he did allow him to keep his hands in front of him, rather than forcing his hands behind his back._

Charles let out a frustrated sigh at the memory. He had expected that the FBI would put all their efforts into finding his daughter, but he had never expected that they would look to him as the guilty party.

_Charles was quietly fuming. He had been placed in the interrogation room from the moment that he had been escorted into the FBI office in the city. At the moment he was sitting on a hard metal chair that was bolted to the floor – he hadn't been permitted to sit in his wheelchair because of the controls on it that allowed him to get around with ease. One hand was cuffed to a metal ring that had been welded to the underside of the table._

_Thus far, no one had come to interrogate him –probably because his lawyer hadn't arrived yet. Ian was going to go crazy when he heard about this. The older man who worked at the same firm his parents used had always been helpful to Charles. It had been he who had seen to the administration of his parents' wills on behalf of their son. When Charles had been old enough to assume control of the estate, he had retained Ian's services because he trusted the older man._

_He was still baffled by the idea that they could consider him a suspect in his daughter's disappearance. Elizabeth was all that he had left. What would possibly motivate him to harm his daughter in anyway?_

_The door opened, and Agent Duncan walked in, carrying a file folder. Right behind him was Charles' lawyer, Ian McDonwald, who looked as angry and disbelieving as Charles felt. As soon as the older man saw him, he went over to his client. "Charles, are you all right?"_

"_I'm fine, Ian," Charles assured him. "How's Susan?"_

"_Mad as a wet cat," Ian told him. Before Charles could ask any further questions, he turned to Agent Duncan. "Agent Duncan, I usually have no difficulties with your office, but I have to admit that what you have done is quite possibly the most asinine thing I have ever witnessed in over thirty years of practicing law. I want to know what evidence you have that gives you the right to arrest my client for the disappearance of his own daughter."_

"_Fingerprint evidence, his own testimony when we interviewed him initially, and a curious track record of deaths in his family for starters," Agent Duncan said coolly._

The days – weeks really – when he had been the chief suspect in his daughter's disappearance had hindered his efforts to find her. He had even tried to use his bond with his daughter to locate her telepathically, but she had dropped away from him. He couldn't sense her anywhere.

Now, she was so close, and yet so far away. He wanted nothing more than to rush out to California and claim her as his own, but he knew that he had to take it slowly. Kitty had been right. His daughter had grown up in someone else's household, believing that the people who raised her were her parents.

That was one aspect of the situation that didn't make sense. He had done as much digging on Hank and Joyce Summers as he could, and as far as he could tell, there was nothing that could connect them to him in anyway. Hank Summers was a prominent architect in Los Angeles, California. He had married his wife Joyce twenty years previously, and the only child of record listed was Elizabeth Anne Summers.

Joyce Summers was listed as the owner of a small art and antique gallery in Sunnydale, where she and Elizabeth had moved after her divorce from Hank Summers had been finalized three years earlier. Other than those minor tidbits of information, Charles had not been able to find out anything further.

As for his daughter…Charles had a wave of questions. Thanks to Cerebro, he had been able to locate records on his daughter going back to her earliest school records. According to those, she had been a solid A-B student all the way through middle school, and even during her first semester of ninth grade. She had been a cheerleader and Prom Princess, and solidly a member of the popular crowd.

But then there was a sudden change in her status, since her grade point average suddenly dropped from an A-B average to barely passing. Her report cards were suddenly riddled with C's and D's, she had multiple notations in her file of having been caught skipping classes and starting fights. Her popularity had dropped, and she'd dropped out of the cheerleading squad.

There was no explanation given for the unexpected change, and Charles almost thought to attribute it to the tensions between Hank and Joyce – he couldn't bring himself to think of them as her parents, since he _knew_ that she was his daughter – except that it didn't seem to fit. A child facing the divorce of her parents…he would have expected her to work harder, in an effort to convince them to stay together.

The truly disturbing part wasn't the change in grades, or the loss of popularity, though. Those were not out of the ordinary for a new student in high school. There were new academic pressures and social pressures that could explain the change.

It was the other part – starting fights, skipping classes… Kitty had uncovered a police report from Los Angeles about a student burning down the gym at Hemery High School on the night of the spring dance. School records indicated that Elizabeth had been blamed for it, because she had been spotted going into the gym after the fire alarm was pulled, and the school had acted by expelling her, even though no criminal charges had been filed and the arson investigation had never conclusively proved that she had done it.

Charles didn't know if his daughter _had_ burned down the gym or not, and the idea that she had been having so many problems that she would have lashed out like that was enough to make him physically ill. Even though he knew she was his daughter, the idea that the people who had raised her had not been focused enough on her to realize that she was acting out in that fashion.

What had these people done to his daughter?

Charles closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. He had David on the way to find out more information about his daughter, in the hopes that he would be able to find information that Cerebro hadn't discovered about her. David had promised that he would call with a report within two days. Charles was hoping to hear from him sometime the next day.

The urge to get on the jet and fly out to California was still incredibly strong, but Kitty had been right. If he rushed making contact with his daughter, he would lose her forever. He needed to know even more about her – and he needed to find out what her mutant powers were. He already was planning on going out there and inviting her to come to his school as a student, but more than that, he would be bringing her home.

He thought about who would be the best person to approach her. While he wanted to go, desperately, he was thinking rationally enough to know that it wasn't the smartest move, because he would be tempted to just blurt out the truth. The best way to win her back would be to convince her to come to the school, give her some time to adjust to her newfound abilities, and ease her into the idea that he was her father.

As far as sending one of the students as a representative, which he usually did do, he would probably send Jean or Kitty, and he was leaning towards sending Jean. His daughter was a senior in high school, so she was close to being the same age as Jean, although she was a bit older than Jean. Jean was pretty, and popular, which was something that his daughter would be familiar with, and Jean was also an athlete, which was also something that would resonate with Elizabeth.

He already knew that he would be sending Ororo to make the pitch. He was too close to the situation, and as much as he trusted Logan, the man was too brusque and curt for him to be willing to place his daughter's recruitment into his hands.

Charles rested his head in his hands. There was still so much to do, but his nerves had been on fire for the past two days. He knew that his attitude of late was confusing everyone at the school except for Kitty, since she was the only one who was aware of the situation. He owed them an explanation, but just as it was too soon to tell his daughter the truth, it was too soon to tell the school.

He just didn't know how much longer he would be able to wait.

*************************************************************

_Sunnydale…the next morning…_

Buffy paused on the corner of the street as she headed to school. She had the eerie sensation that she was being watched. Her eyes scanned the street, but nothing jumped out at her. It didn't give her a feeling that she was in danger, but it was unsettling.

_Of course, when my stupid "aspect of the demon" telepathy could be useful, I'm not picking up anything,_ she grumped to herself. She still didn't understand the reason that her telepathy seemed to only be limited to the Scoobies this time, but it was driving her almost as crazy as the telepathy itself, because she never knew when it would trigger. The last time she had been picking up _everything_ from _everyone_.

She turned and scanned the street more carefully. Between the steady stream of students heading towards the high school and the adults who were heading off to work, there was nothing out of the ordinary. She finally shook her head and continued down the street as she heard the bell ring in the distance. She had ten minutes to get to her first class.

_Please, please tell me that Giles and Wesley have found something,_ she thought as she picked up the pace. The strange unpredictability of her new "talent" was only adding to her distress. Fortunately, the odd dreams about the woman on the cliff seemed to have stopped for the time being. If she was still having those on top of the telepathy, the worries about the Ascension, and her Slaying, she knew she would have cracked by now.

Just before she entered the school she paused and looked around again, still sensing that someone was watching her. Her eyes moved past the parked cars on the streets, but nothing jumped out at her. She sighed and headed into the school. She had to sit through her first bell class before she could go and speak to her Watchers.

*************************************************************

_Bayville…_

Charles lunged for the phone when it rang just before noon. He knew he shouldn't be so eager, but… "Charles Xavier."

"_Dr. Xavier, this is David Walker. I've located Miss Summers."_

"What have you found out David?"

"_Not much. She lives at 1630 Revello Drive. She walks to school every morning, she often goes out late at night to the local club with two or three friends, and she seems to be greatly respected by everyone she interacts with, but she doesn't seem to be part of the popular crowd."_

"What about her behavior?"

"_Its about what I would expect from an eighteen year old high school senior. She parties, socializes with her friends, and goes to school. I don't know how much more I'll be able to find out. I don't have the authority to access any of her school records or any of the family records."_ There was a sigh over the line. _"Charles, if there is any evidence that proves that she's your daughter, I don't think it'll be something that I can find out by watching her."_

"All right, David. Thank you. I'll have a check to reimburse you for the plane tickets and the hotel room out to you as soon as you send me the bill," Charles told him. "I'll have to think about what our next step is going to be."

"_Charles, I know that you don't want to bring the FBI in, but they may be your only recourse. They would have the authority to subpoena the family records, which would tell us if she was adopted or not. If the adoption wasn't legal, that might be your evidence right there."_

He had been considering that he might have to contact the FBI. Despite what they had done to him eighteen years ago, they would have more access to information. Among all the information that Cerebro had pulled, there hadn't been any adoption paperwork, legal or otherwise.

He wondered if he could possibly be wrong, but the very idea sent an instinctive feeling of denial coursing through him. This girl was _his_ daughter. He knew that. There were too many coincidences, but there was no evidence to prove her identity one way or the other. Everything was a pile of contradictions and dead ends.

"I'll think about it, David. The last time the FBI got involved in my daughter's case, I was the one who got burned."

"_I'll stay here for another day and see if I can find out anything else before I head back to New York. If I find anything I'll contact you, otherwise I'll send the report after I get back to the office."_

"All right, David. Thank you," Charles said sincerely before disconnecting the call. He leaned back in his chair thoughtfully as he replaced the receiver. He was in a quandary. Did he try to contact the FBI and reopen the investigation, possibly exposing himself and his daughter's emerging mutant powers, or did he try to reach out to her through the medium of the school first?

He felt like there were still too many unanswered questions…and given the police reports that Cerebro had uncovered, he suspected that his daughter would not cooperate well with the police or the FBI and he would drive her away from him rather than convincing her that he was her father.

What was the best course of action?


	13. Chapter 12: Hastening Events

_Author's Note: Hey everyone! Surprise, surprise! My Narnia muse has finally given up on holding me prisoner, and we managed to negotiate a deal so that I could get this chapter out to you that much sooner! I hope everyone enjoys this new chapter, and don't forget to review! With any luck, I can continue to negotiate with my muses to get another chapter out very soon!_

_**Chapter Twelve: Hastening Events**_

"_**Murder: to kill (a human being) unlawfully and with premeditated malice"**_

_**- Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary, 5**__**th**__** Edition**_

_Sunnydale…that evening…_

David Walker lowered his binoculars as Elizabeth Summers entered the club that was inauspiciously named "The Bronze". He had been following her for two days now, and so far he had not seen anything out of the ordinary. To all appearances, she was a typical eighteen year old high school senior who would graduate within a month or two.

He didn't know what to tell his client. He had known Charles Xavier for seventeen years, ever since his second year as a private investigator. He had been hired by Xavier to locate his missing daughter when the case had been filed as cold by the FBI and the local police after a year of investigations and searching had turned up no sign of the missing child.

For two more years, they had traced every lead, any remote connection to blonde haired children named Elizabeth Anne, but they had turned up nothing. Finally, his other cases had forced him to convince Charles to drop the search. He had promised that if new evidence came up, he would immediately lend his assistance again, but he hadn't expected to ever receive that call.

When Charles had contacted him four days ago, he had been stunned and hesitant. He didn't want to get the father's hopes up when this lead didn't pan out. But when Charles had sent him the newspaper photograph of Elizabeth Summers, along with a photograph of his deceased wife at the same age, even the cynical investigator couldn't deny the similarities between the two of them.

So here he was, in your typical suburban California town, following an eighteen year old girl, looking for evidence to prove that she had been kidnapped when she was five months old.

Then again…this wasn't exactly a typical suburban California town. David wasn't sure what was throwing him off. There was something about Sunnydale – he couldn't put his finger exactly on what it was – but something was making him uneasy.

He wondered if he dared to go into the club after her. He thought that she had almost noticed him outside the high school that morning, but apparently she hadn't. But if he moved any closer, she very well might realize that he had been following her.

Finally, he stepped out of his rental car and leaned against the side of it. He'd been sitting in the car all day as he followed the girl around, and his legs were getting cramped. The warm night air of a California spring was refreshing after sitting in the car all day.

He turned to his left as he heard a group of people coming up the street. A group of teenagers was moving up the street, talking quietly amongst themselves. David smiled and turned his attention back to the club as they drew closer to him. He was still trying to figure out what it was about this town that was setting him so much on edge.

Suddenly, arms like steel bands closed around his chest and neck and he felt himself being dragged away from his car. The arms around his neck were cutting off his breathing and he couldn't draw enough air to yell for help. He struggled viciously, but he couldn't break free.

Something sharp suddenly pierced his neck, sending shooting stabs of pain through his body, before something soft and moist clamped over his skin and began sucking and licking at the blood that was beginning to run down his skin. Then blackness overwhelmed him.

*************************************************************

_Bayville…the next evening…_

He needed to come up with a plan to reach out to his daughter, but he wasn't sure how. He wanted so badly to go out there and convince her to come to the school – no, to convince her of his identity and to get her to come home with him - but he just wasn't sure he could trust himself not to blurt out the news.

A tapping on the door of his office made him look up, and he nodded for Ororo and Logan to enter. They both had serious looks on their faces as they crossed the room, Logan pausing long enough to close the door behind them.

Despite their mental shields, he knew immediately what they wanted to discuss with him, and he didn't even need his telepathy to tell him that. He simply knew them far too well, and the concern on Ororo's face was obvious. Logan was less obvious, but still apparent to Charles.

"Charles, we're concerned about you," Ororo began quietly as she gracefully took one of the seats in front of his desk. Logan chose to remain standing, leaning against the wall off to the side, chewing on a toothpick.

"Yeah, Chuck. You haven't been yourself lately," Logan added in agreement.

"If there's something wrong, we'd like to help," Ororo finished. "You've done so much for us, it's the least we can do."

Charles steepled his fingers. He knew he needed to tell them, since he would likely need their help reaching out to his daughter. But on the other hand, it had been a private matter for so long. He'd never confided in them about his wife or his daughter, and even though they both knew about the family cemetery, they'd never visited it.

"I do owe both of you an explanation," Charles agreed softly. "You've been carrying a great deal of the responsibilities for the past week or so, and I appreciate the way you've stepped forward." He raised his hand to stop any interruptions. "I've been hesitant to share the situation with you because it is a deeply personal matter, but I think that I am going to need the help that you have offered."

He shifted slightly in his chair and took a deep breath. "There's a great deal that I've never told anyone about myself, because my past is a painful subject. I'm more grateful than you realize that the two of you simply accepted what I have been willing to share with you."

"You helped us, Charles," Ororo replied. "That earns a lot of trust."

"I suppose that it is time that you know the whole truth," Charles said quietly as he tried to decide where to begin.

Logan and Ororo waited patiently, watching a myriad of expressions cross their friend and mentor's face. There was old pain, tenderness, love…and more that they couldn't read.

"I was married once," Charles said, abruptly.

It took a moment for the words to sink in.

"_Married_?" Logan and Ororo chorused together.

Charles nodded. "Almost nineteen years ago. My wife's name was Elizabeth, but I called her Lizzie. We were married for just over a year before she died."

Logan and Ororo were silent for a moment as they considered his words. They glanced at each other, not quite certain how to react. Charles was a kind, loving man, or he wouldn't have taken in his students and given them a home, or a way to control their emerging powers. But for some reason, he'd never struck either of them as being the type of person who was interested in a "traditional" family.

Before either of them could say anything further, Charles continued. "There's more. A few days ago, Cerebro alerted me to the presence of a new mutant out in California."

"Why haven't we gone after him to recruit him?" Logan asked.

"Her," Charles corrected. "I've been trying to decide what the best way to approach her is."

"You and Jean…" Ororo began.

"I don't trust myself in this case," Charles interrupted. When Logan and Ororo sent him puzzled looks, he sighed. "I don't trust myself because she's not just any mutant…she's my daughter."

*************************************************************

_Sunnydale…same time…_

Buffy forced a laugh at something that Willow had just said to Xander. Her head was pounding with a tension headache from trying to suppress her telepathy. The pressure of all the people in the Bronze had nearly overwhelmed her, but because she had been avoiding her friends so much over the last few days, she felt like she needed to go to the club with them tonight to reassure them that she wasn't angry or upset with them in any way.

It had proved to be a bad idea. All night she'd felt invading thoughts tickling at the edges of her mind, trying to overwhelm the strange block that she had put up by being so tense all the time. All she wanted was to go home and hide for a little while…until this stupid telepathy decided to go away.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. The pressure of the thoughts trying to impinge on her own was too much for her to deal with, and her headache was only getting worse as the music grew louder and more raucous. Grabbing her bag, she rose to her feet.

"Buffy? Is something wrong?" Xander asked, looking at her.

"Headache," she told him, forcing a smile. "I'm going to go home and try to rest for a while before I make my final patrol for the night."

"Do you want us to walk with you?" Willow asked, concerned.

"No, I'm fine," Buffy said quickly. "You guys stay and have fun. I don't want to wreck your night. I'll see you tomorrow at school."

Before the others could say anything, she turned and headed for the doors, weaving between the club's patrons. She really didn't want to patrol tonight, given the way she was feeling, but taking a night off meant that people would die.

She sighed and shoved the heavy steel door open, only to pause in surprise. Police cars were lined up at the end of the alley, and they had put up crime scene tape around what appeared to be a four-door sedan.

Puzzled, she wandered over towards the scene, hanging back just enough not to be noticed, especially when she realized that Detective Stein was among the officers. He'd been trying to pin something on her ever since the incident with Ted, and if he saw her here, he'd probably find some way to blame her for whatever had happened.

She looked the scene over carefully, trying to figure out what had happened. She saw a body lying on the ground, covered in a white sheet. Two men from one of the funeral homes stepped forward with a stretcher. They moved to lift the body, and the sheet slipped, revealing a man's face and two deep puncture wounds on the side of his neck.

Buffy swore silently to herself as she watched. The vampires had gotten another victim, and this time right under her nose.

*************************************************************

Logan's and Ororo's faces displayed their shock as Charles finished relating the story of his wife's death and his daughter's disappearance. They'd known him for almost fifteen years, and he'd never breathed a word about any of this. There were no pictures of his wife and daughter anywhere in the mansion.

"What are you going to do?" Ororo finally asked.

"I'm not sure yet," Charles admitted. "The private investigator I hired years ago when the police filed the case as cold is out there now, trying to see what he can find out about her."

"But her mutation?" Ororo asked in alarm. "Does he know about it?"

Charles shook his head. "No. But I've been monitoring reports from Sunnydale ever since she was detected, and so far there hasn't been any sign that her powers are in any way destructive or dangerous, so he shouldn't have any reason to be suspicious."

"You need to go out there, Charles. You're the public face of this school, and she's your daughter," Logan growled.

"Believe me, Logan, I want to go out there more than you can imagine, but she's grown up with another family. I need evidence that she was adopted illegally, or that the people who raised her are the ones who kidnapped her from me before I can reveal myself to her," Charles explained. "If I go too soon, I'll lose her, because she won't believe me without some kind of proof."

"Whatever you do, you'll need to do it soon. If Magneto discovers her…" Logan pointed out softly, his voice uncommonly gentle.

Charles shook his head, a fierce look coming over his face. "Magneto and Mystique aren't going to get anywhere near her. I won't allow it."

"Then we need to get to her first, Charles. The fact that we don't know what her powers are put us at a disadvantage. Magneto may already know about her."

The fierce look faded from Charles' face. "I know, old friend. I've been looking for her for so long…this is my one chance to reclaim her. I don't think we need to worry about Mystique getting to her. I've been able to monitor her using Cerebro, and she's still here in Bayville."

"What about Magneto?" Ororo asked.

Charles started to answer, when the ringing of the phone stopped him. He frowned, but reached over and pushed a button on the arm of his chair that activated his speaker phone. "Hello?"

"_May I speak to Dr. Charles Xavier, please?"_ a male voice asked.

"This is he. May I ask who I am speaking to?" Charles replied.

"_Dr. Xavier, this is Detective Robert Stein of the Sunnydale Police Department in Sunnydale, California."_

For a moment, Charles thought that his heart was going to stop. _Elizabeth!_ was the first thing he almost blurted out, but with a supreme effort, he choked back the cry. He paused for a moment and cleared his throat before speaking. "How may I help you, Detective?"

Logan and Ororo were looking on, listening intently to the conversation, but not saying anything.

"_Dr. Xavier, do you know a man by the name of David Walker?"_ Detective Stein asked. _ "He's a private investigator in New York City."_

Charles hesitated for a moment as he tried to decide how to answer the question. After a moment he spoke. "Yes, I do. Why do you ask and how did you get my number?"

"_Dr. Xavier, I'm sorry to tell you that Mr. Walker was murdered this evening. As to how we knew your number, when we searched his body for identification, we found his driver's license, his business card, and some papers with your contact information on him."_

_David was murdered? But how? Why?_ The thoughts raced through Xavier's mind. "Have you any leads yet?"

"_Not at the moment,"_ Detective Stein replied. _"I did have some questions for you, if you have some time to answer them."_

"Of course, Detective."

"_Was Mr. Walker under your employment?"_

"Yes, at the moment. He had almost finished up the work I asked him to do out in California. I believe he was supposed to fly back to New York sometime tomorrow."

"_What exactly did you have him working on?"_

How was he supposed to answer this question? If Elizabeth had been in trouble with the police as the newspapers and police reports stated, Detective Stein might very well know his daughter. The last thing that Charles wanted was for the police to interview her in relation to David's murder and tip his hand.

"_Dr. Xavier?"_

Charles thoughts raced for several seconds before he finally responded. "I had asked him to track down a member of my deceased wife's family. My wife had lost contact with her years ago, but her last known address was in California – Los Angeles, I believe. He called me yesterday and told me that he thought he had traced her to Sunnydale."

It wasn't even a lie, when it came down to it. His daughter _was_ a member of his wife's family, he _had_ lost contact with her years ago, and she _had_ lived in Los Angeles until three years ago.

"_Her name?"_

"I knew her as Elizabeth Michaels," Charles replied, using his wife's maiden name. "But David told me that he thought she might have changed her name. He was going to try to confirm that she had before he told me what name she was going by."

There was silence for several seconds on the other end of the phone before Stein spoke again. _"All right, Dr. Xavier. Thank you for your help."_

"Detective, what happened to David? You said he was murdered."

"_He was stabbed in the throat twice and bled out,"_ the detective replied curtly. _"I'm afraid that's all I can say about the matter at the moment."_

Charles shot a look at his companions, who gave him equally puzzled looks. "I understand, Detective. Thank you."

"_Actually, Dr. Xavier, would you happen to know how we can reach Mr. Walker's family?"_

"He doesn't have any," Charles replied. "His parents died years ago and he was an only child. He never married."

"_There're no grandparents or other extended family?"_ the detective asked.

"Not to my knowledge, and I've known him for many years," Charles said apologetically.

"_All right. We'll take care of arrangements for his body out here, and I'll get in touch with New York police to contact someone to take care of his personal possessions out there."_

"I can take care of funeral expenses," Charles told him. "He was working for me, and I'll see to it he's buried with his parents. When you're ready to release his body contact me and I'll make arrangements to have him brought back to New York."

Surprised silence met his offer. _ "Dr. Xavier, the expense would be –"_

"Easily within my ability to handle," Charles replied firmly. "David was a friend, and he was working for me at the time of his death. It's the least I can do."

"_All right, Dr. Xavier. Thank you very much. Will I be able to reach you at this number if I have any other questions?"_

"I may have to go on a business trip in the next few days, but someone will be here and they can relay a message to me," Charles responded.

"_Thank you, Dr. Xavier. I'll be in touch,"_ Detective Stein promised, before he abruptly hung up.

Charles hung up on his end and stared quietly at Logan and Ororo. "Things have changed. I sent David to Sunnydale to find out more about my daughter, and he ends up dead?"

"Magneto wouldn't stoop that low, would he?" Ororo asked. "He wouldn't murder an innocent human just to get to one mutant?"

Charles watched her for a moment, until he could see the dawning realization on her face. "The Magneto I first met, years ago, wouldn't," he agreed. "But now? I don't think there's anything he wouldn't do if it meant winning one more mutant to his cause…especially if he knows that she is important to me."

He steepled his fingers again. "Ororo would you be willing to go out to California with one of the students and I? If this murder is Magneto's doing, we need to get to Elizabeth before he does."

"Certainly, Charles. Who else did you want to bring?"

He had been contemplating that very thing, and he had made a decision. "Jean. She's only two years younger than Elizabeth, and from what I do know about my daughter, they have a lot in common."

"Would you like me to tell her?" Ororo asked.

Charles shook his head. "No. I'll speak with her in the morning."


	14. Chapter 13: Face to Face At Last

**Author's Note: Here it is! The long-awaited "meeting" chapter. Don't forget to read and review!**

_**Chapter Thirteen: Face to Face At Last**_

"_Learn the art of patience. Apply discipline to your thoughts when they become anxious over the outcome of a goal. Impatience breeds anxiety, fear, discouragement, and failure. Patience creates confidence, decisiveness, and a rational outlook, which eventually leads to success."_

_-Brian Adams_

_Bayville, the next morning…_

"Jean, Professor Xavier would like to speak with you before you join the others," Ororo said, spotting the young woman heading down to breakfast with the rest of the team.

Jean turned and looked at Ororo. "All right," she agreed. "Is he in his office?"

"Yes. He's waiting for you," the weather witch said.

Jean nodded and hurried down the stairs. She passed quickly through the living room to the Professor's office just beyond it. Tapping on the open door, she stepped inside. "You wanted to see me, Professor?"

"Yes, Jean. I wanted to ask you if you would be willing to take a few days off from school and come with me to California. There's a new mutant out there that we need to try and recruit," Charles said with a serious expression on his face.

Jean thought quickly through her schedule. "There shouldn't be a problem, Professor. I don't have any tests coming up, and finals aren't for another month. Will the school clear the days though? I already have a lot of absences in my file."

"I'm aware of that, but since I am your guardian, I can keep you home if necessary," Charles assured her. "I also have some influence with the school board, and since you're making straight A's despite the absences, there shouldn't be any problems with the administration."

"Of course, Professor. Are we leaving right away?"

"Right after you pack for a few days," Charles told her. "There's still a great deal I don't know about this particular young woman, and we need to play our cards carefully with her. I have reason to believe that Magneto will have a particular interest in her."

"I'll be ready to go when you are," Jean assured him. "I'll go and pack now." She started to turn and head for the door when she paused. "What's the girl's name?"

"Buffy Summers," Charles said, inwardly shuddering at calling his daughter by that name. He still wasn't ready for Jean to know the truth. He knew that Jean could keep a secret, but he wanted to treat this situation as if she was an ordinary student. The only difference was that if she agreed to come with them, she would be older than any of the other X-Men, and he would need to see about getting her accepted into a college nearby.

"Summers?" Jean asked, surprised. "Is she related to Scott?"

Charles shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not. It's just a coincidence. I already looked into that possibility." He actually had, when the name Summers had shown up. But Joyce and Hank Summers were not related to Scott in any way, and he already knew that Elizabeth was his daughter.

"Buffy." Jean tried the name out. "Interesting. I don't suppose it's any different than Kitty or Pietro." Jean sent him a smile, before leaving to get her things ready.

_Hopefully, she won't be going by that name for very long,_ he thought.

*******************************************************************

"Have you thought about the best way to approach this new student?" Ororo asked a short time later as the X-Jet rocketed away from the mansion and headed west.

"We're going to have to approach her a little bit differently than most of our new recruits," Charles replied, setting their course. "Engage autopilot."

There was a beep from the computer before he released the controls and turned to face Jean and Ororo. Jean looked a little puzzled as to why Ororo was with them. Usually when the professor asked her to accompany him to recruit a student, it was just the two of them.

"What do you mean, Professor?" Jean asked.

"Miss Summers is older than anyone else on the team," Charles explained. "She's a senior in high school, and she's due to graduate in a month. She'll need intensive training in controlling her gift, especially since I am going to try to use my influence with New York University to get her enrolled there."

"What is her gift?" Jean wondered.

"I don't know," Charles admitted. "I haven't been able to get quite as fixed a reading on her as I was able to with the rest of you. There haven't been any signs that it is dangerous, the way Scott's is, but her powers may only be partially developed. There's no telling what they could do if that's the case and they open into full strength too soon."

"If she's almost ready for college, why am I here?" Jean glanced between the Professor and Storm.

"You're still a perfect example of what I want to offer her," Charles explained. "You're popular, an athlete, and you've got full control of your powers. What information I do have about Miss Summers indicates that she is also popular and athletic."

"What did you have in mind, Charles?" Ororo asked.

Charles had been thinking about this all night, and he thought he had a plan in mind. "Jean and I will go to the high school and speak to her. Ororo, I'd like you to go and talk to her mother."

Storm watched her mentor closely. Jean probably couldn't tell that anything was wrong, but Ororo had known Charles Xavier for too long to not know when something was bothering him. He wasn't as confident in this plan as he seemed to be.

_**Don't worry, Ororo,**_ Charles' voice sounded in her mind. _**This is for the best.**_

With the connection that he had opened between them still active, she could reply to him without worrying about Jean picking up on it. _Are you certain about this, Charles? I thought that you were hesitant to approach your daughter._

_**I am, Ororo, which is why I am going with Jean. I'm more wary of approaching Mrs. Summers. Since I don't know yet if she had anything to do with kidnapping Elizabeth from me, I don't want to face her.**_

_I hope you know what you're doing, Professor_, Ororo thought at him.

_**So do I, Storm. So do I.**_

*******************************************************************

_1630 Revello Drive…_

Joyce was just coming downstairs in search of her purse so she could go into her gallery when there was a knock on the front door. She frowned. It was Friday, but she wasn't expecting anyone. "Coming," she called, heading for the front door. She was somewhat wary of who it could be, but it was broad daylight, so it couldn't be a vampire.

She unlocked the front door and opened it. "Hello?"

A tall African-American woman stood on the front stoop. She had crystalline blue eyes, and long, pure white hair. She was dressed neatly in a sharp business suit and had a warm smile on her face. "Hello. I'm looking for Buffy or Joyce Summers."

"I'm Joyce Summers. Who are you?"

"My name is Ororo Munroe, from the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters. I'd like to speak to you for a few moments, if I may."

Joyce hesitated for a moment. She had never met this woman before, but she seemed friendly enough. Surely a demon wouldn't pretend to be from a school just to find a way inside her house, and as she had already observed, it was still morning, so the woman couldn't be a vampire.

Joyce finally nodded and opened the door wider, stepping aside to indicate that the visitor could come in. This was the easiest test for vampires, since they couldn't enter a private home without a verbal invitation.

"Thank you," Ororo said, walking inside. She looked around the foyer, which was tastefully decorated with a mix of modern and antique furniture and art. It reminded her somewhat of the mansion, although on a smaller and less expensive scale. "You have a lovely home."

"Thank you," Joyce said quietly, moving over to the phone and picking it up to call into the gallery and tell her staff that she wouldn't be in as planned. Fortunately, her assistant manager would be able to handle things, and if anything she couldn't handle came up, she'd call.

As Joyce had suspected, her assistant manager assured her there wouldn't be any problems. Joyce thanked her for her willingness to be flexible, before hanging up. She turned to her visitor, who was looking at some of the family photographs that were hanging on the wall in the living room.

"I apologize. May I offer you something to drink?" Joyce asked.

"No, thank you, I'm fine," Ororo assured her.

"What can I do for you?" Joyce asked, indicating that Ororo could take a seat on the sofa.

*******************************************************************

_Sunnydale High School…_

Jean was quiet as she followed the Professor up to the local high school. The Professor was quiet as well. Other than the brief instructions that he had given her inside the plane, he hadn't said a word about this new mutant that they were coming here to recruit.

Ororo had left them to go and speak to Mrs. Summers, although the plan that they were going by wasn't their typical one. For one thing, it was usually the Professor who would meet with the parents of the new mutant, while Jean, Scott, or Ororo went to talk to the student. For another, the Professor had told both of them quite firmly that he did not want them to mention mutation to either Buffy or her mother.

"Professor?"

"Yes, Jean?"

"I'm not sure I understand what we're doing here. If you don't want us to talk to Buffy about being a mutant, why are we approaching her?"

Charles sighed and stopped his chair. He looked at Jean for a long moment, wondering if he should tell her the truth, that Elizabeth was his daughter. It was a tricky situation that he was asking Jean to jump into with no background knowledge, and that wasn't fair to her.

"Jean, I haven't been completely honest with you as to why we're approaching Miss Summers differently than we have any of the other students," he began. "I have personal reasons for changing my tactics in this case, and I promise you, I'll tell you later tonight. It's too complicated to get into at the moment."

"All right, Professor. I trust you," Jean replied with a smile on her face as she brushed a strand of her red hair out of her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. She fell silent as she followed him up to the front doors of the school, holding it open for him so that he could maneuver his wheelchair inside.

Charles led the way down the hallway, following the signs that pointed visitors to the main office. Jean opened the door again once they reached it, stepping aside to let him in while she held the door open. He thanked her with a smile as he went up to the secretary's desk.

The secretary, a woman in her mid-fifties with blonde hair beginning to go grey looked up at him. "Welcome to Sunnydale High. How may I help you?"

Charles smiled at her. "My name is Dr. Charles Xavier, from the Xavier School for Gifted Students. I'd like to speak to Buffy Summers, please."

"Are you family?" the secretary asked, turning to her computer.

Oh, how he wished he could answer that question in the affirmative. With difficulty, he kept a straight face. "No. I'm here because I'm interested in enrolling Miss Summers at my school once she graduates next month," Charles replied. "I would like to meet with Buffy and some of her teachers for a brief interview as part of our application process." Although it went against his beliefs, he reached out with his telepathy and applied a very minor suggestion to the woman's mind when he sensed that she was about to refuse.

Ororo was working on getting them a meeting with Buffy and Mrs. Summers, but Charles couldn't wait any longer to meet his daughter, even if he couldn't actually tell her that he was her father. He had waited far too long already. He was not an impatient man, but this was his long-lost daughter.

"Well, Dr. Xavier, this is rather unorthodox," the secretary explained. "Normally, I couldn't permit it, but since this is Miss Summers' free period, I don't suppose that it would do any harm. I can have her paged and you can use one of the conference rooms…"

"Actually, if you could just tell me where I might find her, I'd be happy to let her choose where she wants to talk," Charles interjected. "Since it is her education I'm here to discuss with her, I'd like her to be comfortable and relaxed so I can get a sense as to what kind of a person she is."

Again the woman hesitated, before a tiny telepathic suggestion overrode her initial reaction. "All right. Sign in on this log, and take these visitor passes. During their free periods, most students can be found outside in the quad or in the library."

"Thank you," Charles replied, using his powers to get a map of the school from the woman's mind as he and Jean signed the visitor's log and took the badges that she held out to them.

"Make sure you come back and sign out when you leave," the secretary instructed them. "When the bell rings, you'll have to let Miss Summers return to her classes."

"I understand," Charles assured her.

Jean held the door open again and once they left the office, they headed down the hallway together. According to the map he had taken from the secretary's mind, they had to pass through the quad to get to the library, so they decided to check there first.

It only took them a few minutes to reach the bright, sunny courtyard. A few students were sitting on benches talking quietly or working on their assignments for class. Charles scanned the students, but didn't see his daughter anywhere. He looked up at Jean and shook his head.

Jean nodded and led the way across the courtyard, her mentor right beside her. Several of the students glanced up at them in mild curiosity as they passed, but the sight of the visitor badges they were wearing seemed to alleviate the curiosity, and they quickly returned to whatever they were doing after a brief glance.

As they passed back into the school, everything grew even more quiet. The halls were deserted, and the classroom doors were closed while the classes were being held. Charles felt a momentary pang, remembering his own school days. Unlike many of his friends, he had loved attending classes, and he had worked hard to earn the grades that he had.

True, his telepathic abilities had emerged early – not long after his father died – but even at a young age, he had been careful not to intrude into anyone else's mind. It had been difficult, at first, learning to control his powers, and there had been several instances where he had seen things in other people's minds that he hadn't intended to.

One instance popped into his memory quite clearly. He had been in sixth grade, the first year at his boarding school after his father died, and the teacher had been talking about animal defenses. He had asked the students a question, and the information had flowed into Charles' mind before he could stop it. When none of his classmates seemed to know the answer, he had given the teacher the answer that he had inadvertedly learned.

The teacher had been shocked that he knew the answer and had teased him about reading his mind, but hadn't seemed to realize that was exactly what had happened. Fortunately, after that incident, Charles had redoubled his efforts to learn how to protect himself and keep such things from happening again. Most of his students didn't realize that he was self-taught in controlling his powers, nor did they realize the pain and effort had had gone through to get them under conscious control.

Realizing that he was woolgathering, he mentally shook himself. He could see the library at the end of the hall, and he knew he had to be getting close to meeting his daughter. His heart rate increased slightly, and his free hand – the one not guiding his chair – trembled slightly with anticipation. It took a conscious effort on his part to keep his breathing even and calm, and he redoubled his mental shields, just to keep anything from leaking through to Jean.

For a moment, time and space seemed distorted. Even though they were physically closing in on the double swinging doors of the library, they didn't seem to be getting any closer. It was taking an age to traverse the hallway, and yet before he knew it, the doors loomed in front of him. As Jean stepped ahead of him to push open the door and hold it for him, he took a deep breath.

Finally, his chair was in the room, and his eyes immediately searched the space, looking for Elizabeth.

He spotted her right away. She was seated at the heavy wooden table in the center of the room, her blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, making her look younger and more vulnerable – and in a way, even more like her mother. Her green eyes seemed weary, and she had the beginnings of dark circles forming under them. He knew all about the cosmetic tricks that women used to hide parts of their appearances they weren't happy with – his students did it on a regular basis when a mission kept them up until all hours of the morning – but it didn't seem as if she had even bothered to attempt it.

Sitting beside her were several people. There was an older man in his late forties or early fifties, brown hair beginning to go grey and wrinkles beginning to seam his kind face sitting on her right. Another, younger man – most likely in his late twenties or early thirties, with an arrogant, pompous look to him – was seated across from her. Two other teens – a boy with dark brown hair and a goofy, light-hearted expression on his face who was seated next to the younger man, and a girl with vibrant red hair and green eyes who was seated next to Elizabeth - completed the picture.

All five looked up at the sound of the library door opening, the younger adult breaking off whatever he was saying as they took in the sight of their visitors. All three teens looked surprised and a little wary at seeing them. The older man rose to his feet and approached slowly.

"Hello. I'm Rupert Giles, the librarian. May I help you?" Mr. Giles' voice was smooth and mellow, with a crisp British accent. His clothing was casually professional, consisting of tweed and a lightweight pullover with a light tan pair of slacks.

"Yes, I hope so," Charles said, forcing himself to look at the man, even though he wanted to watch his daughter. He couldn't show too much interest in her at the moment, since he didn't want to arouse any suspicions. Now wasn't the time to greet her like the long-lost daughter that she was. He wanted to do that in his own time, on his own turf, where he had the advantage. "I'm looking for Miss Buffy Summers."

Elizabeth rose slowly to her feet, and with a pang, he realized that she was literally the spitting image of her mother at the same age. The hair, the eyes…even their height was the same. The only real difference was their fashion choices, but that was mostly due to the fact that they lived on separate sides of the country. His daughter dressed for the warmer weather and the preppier styles of California, while his wife had always dressed casually professional, but with exquisite taste.

"I'm Buffy Summers," his daughter said, stepping around the table towards him. "Do I know you?"

Oh, how her words hurt him! Of course, he couldn't hope that she would remember a father that she hadn't seen since she was five months old, but his heart spoke the lie. He had been hoping that some part of her would recognize him and greet him like family.

"No, I don't believe so, Miss Summers," he replied formally, keeping a tight reign on his thoughts and his emotions. Now wasn't the time. "My name is Dr. Charles Xavier. I'm from Xavier's School for Gifted Students in New York. This is Jean Grey, one of my students." He offered his hand to her.

He was watching her closely, and he realized that in some ways she was very different from her mother, despite their appearances. Lizzie had always had a confident, authoritative way of moving. Years as a doctor, confident in her skills, had given that to her. But his daughter…she was different. Her movements were fluid and graceful. There was no wasted energy in her motions, and her entire body was tense and alert, even though her face was neutral. She was like one of the great predator cats stalking her prey.

As she came closer to him and he got a good look at her face, he realized that the differences were in her eyes as well. Lizzie's eyes and expressions had been welcoming and friendly, caring and compassionate. His daughter's eyes were subdued and shuttered. There were hints of dark memories or trauma buried in their depths, and an alertness that told him that she was watching his every motion, ready to respond to anything that made her feel threatened. Her eyes were the eyes of a battle-hardened soldier…but why would an eighteen year old girl have eyes like that?

What had these people done to his daughter?

*******************************************************************

_Several minutes previously… Sunnydale High Library…_

"What do you mean it's back, Buffy?" Xander asked, incredulously, as he stared at his friend.

"The telepathy came back," Buffy said sharply, trying not to snap at him, but knowing that she was not entirely succeeding when she saw the hurt flash in his eyes.

"H-how long h-has this been going on, Buffy?" Willow asked nervously.

Buffy sighed and rested her forehead in her hand as she tried to massage her growing headache away. "About a week. It hasn't been as bad as it was before, but it's slowly getting worse."

"What do you mean it hasn't been as bad?" Xander asked.

"Right now it seems to be limited to you guys," Buffy explained. "I'm randomly picking up on what you're thinking, but so far I haven't really been able to hear the thoughts of anyone else."

"You've been reading our minds and haven't told us?" Xander's tone was sharp.

"I'm not doing it on purpose Xand!" Buffy shot back. "I can't control it! The last time this happened, you guys freaked out. I was hoping that Giles, Wesley, and Angel would have figured out what went wrong when they tried to cure it by now, but they're not having any luck."

"We are working on it, Buffy," Giles said softly, reaching out and touching her shoulder comfortingly. "Unfortunately, there's not a lot of documentation for acquired telepathy. What references we've been able to find are very obscure."

"I just want this to be over with," Buffy muttered, looking down at the table.

"Rest assured, Buffy we are – " Wesley began, only to break off what he was saying as the library doors were pushed open to admit two people. The first one to enter was a young woman of fifteen or sixteen. She had long red hair like Willow's and sharp, intelligent green eyes. She had a warm smile on her face, and everything about her was genuine, from the smile, to the friendly expression in her eyes.

The other visitor was a man sitting in a wheel chair. He wore a neat suit with a tie. He was completely bald, and his blue eyes were sharp and intense, and equally as intelligent as his companions. He radiated a calm, soothing aura, and he was business like, but still friendly.

Giles rose to his feet and walked over to them. "Hello. I'm Rupert Giles, the librarian. May I help you?"

The wheelchair-bound man looked from the rest of them over to Giles. "Yes, I hope so. I'm looking for Miss Buffy Summers."

Her friends' gazes shifted to her in surprise. Buffy glanced at them quickly, her confusion evident, before she rose to her feet and moved around the table. "I'm Buffy Summers. Do I know you?"

Even as she moved towards him, she reached out with her Slayer senses, trying to get a feel for this man. She was fairly certain that he wasn't a demon, given that it was broad daylight, and demons weren't usually bold enough to walk into a public building and as for specific victims by name. But there was something about him…he wasn't setting of her Slayer abilities, but something about him _was_ giving her the wiggins.

Maybe it was the way he watched her…there was something in his eyes that she couldn't read.

"No, I don't believe so, Miss Summers," he replied. "My name is Dr. Charles Xavier from the Xavier Institute for Gifted Students in New York. This is Jean Grey, one of my students." He offered his hand to her.

She hesitated for a moment, still suspicious, even though she had no real reason to be. Finally, she reached out and clasped his hand with hers. "Nice to meet you. What can I do for you?" she asked, releasing his hand and reaching for the girl's hand.

*******************************************************************

Offering her his hand was a strategic move as well as a polite one. It was amazing how much information he could glean from a person with the slightest bit of physical contact. The nature of the contact made it much harder to shield from his telepathy.

In a flash, he understood what her mutation was. It was obvious in the tension in her shoulders, as well as the impressions he picked up from her in that moment of contact.

_She's a telepath!_ He thought, keeping the realization carefully shielded. There was more, but the signs of burgeoning telepathy were unmistakable to another telepath. She had somehow managed to erect a rudimentary shield around her mind, but it was clumsy and fragile, and she was having difficulty maintaining it.

_Oh my dear child! I wish I could tell you the truth now and help you correct that shield._ In a way, he had expected that her powers might be psychic in nature, given his own gifts, and she was already showing signs of being a powerful telepath indeed.

He forced his mind back to her question. "I've come to speak to you about attending my school next semester, Miss Summers," he replied in answer.

She frowned. "I don't remember applying for any Institute for Gifted Students," she answered, puzzled. "Besides, I'm due to graduate in just over a month, and I've already been accepted at Northwestern and UC Sunnydale."

"I'm aware that you never applied," he assured her. "My school is quite different, since we have a very limited student body. I hand-pick my students using criteria that is quite a bit different from what most colleges and universities use. Your name was brought to my attention by a friend of mine, and when I did some more checking, you seemed to meet all of my criteria. I thought I would come out and meet with you and your parents, tell you a little about the school, and give you the option of coming out to visit soon."

"Is your school a college?" she asked, still puzzled, her eyes showing that she was wary.

"Not exactly," he explained. "If you choose to enroll with us, you'll attend most of your classes at a local university in New York, and take a few additional classes at my school with myself and my staff, while receiving room and board."

Before she could say anything more, the bell rang and she groaned. "I'm sorry, I have class now."

"I understand," he assured her. "Would it be possible for us to call tonight and speak with you and your parents in more detail?"

She hesitated again, before she nodded. "Let me arrange a time with my mother, and I'll call you to give you directions to my house. Do you have a phone number where I can reach you?"

He nodded and handed her one of his business cards. She took it and slipped it into her pocket as the two other students moved up beside her. "Thanks." She turned to her friends. "Come on guys, we're going to be late."

He watched her walk out of the library, his heart a mixture of emotions. His daughter was walking away from him, struggling to control her emerging telepathic power, and he couldn't do anything to help her, because it wasn't the right time to reveal the truth of his identity to her.

How much longer would he have to wait?


	15. Chapter 14: Revelations

_Author's Note: Here's another chapter for you, loyal readers. I hope it lives up to your expectations...oh, and I am still putting out a call for quotes, particularly about family, fathers, and daughters. If you give me one and I use it, I'll give you credit in the chapter. I've recieved some great ones in the last couple of chapters, so for those that sent them in - thank you!_

_Author's Note 2: 9/27/2009 - I have made revisions to this chapter. The reason is explained in chapter seventeen._

_**Chapter Fourteen: Revelations**_

_"The beginning of knowledge is the discovery of something we do not understand."__  
__-Frank Herbert_

_Buffy's house…that evening…_

"Buffy, as honored as I am by you asking me here to help with this, I think this should be between you and your mother," Giles said, accepting the cup of tea that Buffy handed him.

Buffy fixed him with a Look. "Even though you may not be my Watcher anymore, at least according to the Council, you're still a friend, Giles. Right now you're the closest thing I have to a father, with my dad off in Europe somewhere. I trust you with regards to my Slaying. I don't trust Wesley, and I know what he would say about this."

"Buffy – " Giles began, only to fall silent as she shook her head.

Joyce emerged from the kitchen with a tray loaded with the fixings for coffee and tea, which she placed on the table in front of them. She had heard enough to guess what was going on. "Please stay, Mr. Giles. Buffy's right." Despite the rocky start they'd had since she had learned about her daughter's destiny, their mutual concern for Buffy had given them common ground, and Joyce trusted Mr. Giles to keep her daughter safe.

"Giles, you've never given me bad advice," Buffy said quietly. "I'm not sure what to think about Dr. Xavier. I never applied to his school, and my understanding was that student records are supposed to be private. Something about this is giving me the wiggins."

Before Giles could respond, there was a knock on the front door. Joyce moved over to answer it, Buffy right behind her. Buffy had her hand on the stake that was tucked behind her back in the waistband of her jeans. Even though they were inside the house, there was no guarantee that something evil might not be right outside the door. Three years in Sunnydale had taught her to be prepared for anything.

Joyce swung the door open, and the two Summers peered out. On the front porch were Dr. Xavier and Jean Grey, along with a woman that Buffy didn't recognize, but that she assumed was the woman who had spoken to Joyce earlier that day. She slowly released the stake, casually dropping her hand to rest by her side.

Dr. Xavier smiled when he saw them. "Mrs. Summers, Miss Summers," he greeted them.

"Hello, Dr. Xavier," Buffy returned the greeting. She and her mother stepped aside, wordlessly inviting them inside.

The professor maneuvered his wheelchair in through the door, Ororo and Jean following behind him. Joyce closed the door behind them once everyone was inside as Buffy led the way into the living room where Giles had risen to his feet and was standing next to the sofa.

"Mr. Giles, it's a pleasure to see you again," Dr. Xavier said as he entered, reaching out to shake the other man's hand. "I'm sure you remember my student Jean Grey, and this is Ororo Munro, one of the other teachers at my school."

"G- _Mr_. Giles is here because he's been helping me with a lot of my college advising and post-graduation planning," Buffy explained off of Xavier's puzzled look at seeing the librarian.

"Indeed," Giles said politely, shaking everyone's hand as Joyce and came over to greet their guests.

"I met Ms. Munro earlier today," Joyce observed, shaking the woman's hand again. "Why don't we all sit down and get comfortable?" She suited her actions to her words as she sat down on the couch. "May I offer anyone coffee or tea?"

"Tea would be wonderful," Jean commented as she took a seat on the Professor's left, while Ororo settled into a chair on his right.

The Professor and Ororo both accepted cups of tea as well, while Joyce and Buffy took coffee instead. There were a few more minutes of settling while everyone fixed their drinks the way they wanted them and sat back in their seats to get comfortable, before Joyce looked closely at the Professor.

"Now, Dr. Xavier, when I spoke to Ms. Munro earlier today, she mentioned something about wanting to enroll Buffy at your school," Joyce said to begin the conversation.

Charles nodded and placed his teacup back on the saucer. "Yes. I have a friend at Northwestern who, in passing, mentioned your daughter to me as an example of the students they were hoping to enroll for the next semester." He looked between the two women. "Your SAT scores were quite impressive, Miss Summers. Ordinarily, I wouldn't think about trying to recruit a student away from a school as prestigious as Northwestern, but I did some checking into what information is available to college recruiters and you seem to fit the criteria of what I look for in my students."

"What criteria is that?" Giles asked.

"It varies from student to student, Mr. Giles," Ororo inserted. "We have students from all over the country attending and our student body is quite small because the Professor hand-picks them."

"Mainly, I look for young men and women who have special abilities," Charles explained. "Special gifts that, for many reasons, have gone unnoticed by the academic community at large. I am a firm believer in the idea that all students can succeed at whatever they put their minds to, if someone simply gives them the chance."

"The students range in a variety of ages and all skill levels," Jean added. "I'm a sophomore in high school myself.

Buffy frowned. "So, your school isn't a college? You mentioned something about attending a local university…?"

Charles hesitated for a moment before he frowned. "Technically, no, my school is not a college. In fact, you would be the first and only student who would be college age. I only opened the school about a year ago, but eventually I have plans to take in students from all grade levels. It's simply a matter of finding the right types of students."

Buffy, Joyce, and Giles exchanged skeptical looks, and Charles could tell that they were losing them. Charles swore silently. He hadn't really thought this plan all the way through, and now they were paying for it. He refused to use his telepathy to influence them. Coming to Bayville had to be Elizabeth's choice – he couldn't force it on her, or he would be no better than the person who had kidnapped her.

"Miss Summers, I understand that this may seem unusual to you, but I assure you that it is a serious offer. I still have a great deal of influence with New York University, since I used to be a tenured professor. I have no doubt that with your SAT scores and a recommendation from me that they would accept you," he told her as he met her eyes. "I believe that you are a very special young lady, and you deserve the right to reach your full potential. I'd like to invite you out to my school for a few days, and you can see what we have to offer before you make your decision."

Buffy still looked (and felt) extremely skeptical of this mysterious professor who came out of nowhere, offering to enroll her in what sounded like a very exclusive school based solely on her SAT scores and some unknown criteria that he was comparing her to. Three years on the Hellmouth had left her extremely suspicious of things that seemed to be too good to be true.

But the idea of getting away from the Hellmouth… it was something her mother wanted desperately for her. She just didn't know if she could manage it. With Faith having turned on them, there was no one left to guard the Hellmouth. After she had realized that Faith was working with the Mayor, she had resigned herself to enrolling at UC Sunnydale, although she still hadn't officially declared her intentions. She had until mid-May to do that, and she hadn't made up her mind what to do yet.

She knew that Wesley was going to insist that she stay in Sunnydale to guard the Hellmouth, but she also knew that if she chose Northwestern – or this special school Dr. Xavier was offering – Giles would support her. She just didn't know if she could, as long as the situation with Faith was unresolved.

"I haven't made up my mind yet, Professor," Buffy finally told him. "If you don't mind, I think I need to talk it over with my mom and Mr. Giles. I never really considered leaving Sunnydale, despite the offer from Northwestern. Let me think about it for a few days, and I'll get back to you."

Charles felt his heart clench at her words. How he had hoped that he had convinced her! He was certain that if he could get her home, he would be able to convince her of his identity, but it sounded like she was going to end up saying no. However, he needed to be gracious about this, no matter how it was hurting him to have to do so. It had to be free will. "I understand," he assured her quietly. "We'll be in town for a few more days, and if you do decide that you want to come for a visit, you're welcome to travel back with us on my private jet."

"That's a wonderful offer, Professor, but I wouldn't be able to come until next weekend, at the earliest," Buffy told him regretfully. "I would hate for you to have to wait around here for an entire week."

Charles was about to tell her that he would wait as long as it took to get her to come back to New York with them, but as he wrestled the instinctive impulse down, Ororo jumped back into the conversation. "We could always come back to pick you up, Miss Summers. It wouldn't be a problem, since we recruit from all over the country, as we mentioned. We could coordinate a trip to see another student with coming by to get you on our way back to New York," the weather witch told Buffy earnestly.

Buffy sighed. "Let me think about it. I promise I'll call you no later than Sunday night to let you know my decision."

"Fair enough," Charles agreed, although it broke his heart to have to end the discussion. Being so close to his daughter and yet not being able to say anything to her, nor to be able to do anything to help her with her blossoming telepathy was tearing him apart.

Joyce, Giles, and Buffy rose to their feet and Jean and Ororo followed suit. As Buffy walked them to the door, she turned her head to look at them. "Out of curiosity, where are you staying while you're here?"

"The Ramada Inn near the center of town," the Professor replied.

Buffy winced inwardly. While the Ramada wasn't the worst place they could have picked, it wasn't the best either. The best choice would have been for them to stay in a private dwelling, where the vampires couldn't enter, but that probably wasn't an option for them unless they had friends in town, and she highly doubted it. "Word of advice?" she asked, and when he nodded, she continued. "Once you get back to your hotel, lock the doors to your rooms and don't open them until morning, for any reason."

Charles frowned. "I am afraid I don't understand."

"Sunnydale can be quite dangerous after dark," Giles said, preparing to leave as well, as he shrugged his tweed jacket on. "It looks like a very safe town, but there are a multitude of gangs that run the town after dark, and they don't consider any public place, including hotels, to be safe."

If anything, Charles' frown deepened as he thought about David's murder. "I find that surprising."

"Don't. And don't underestimate the violence of the gangs," Buffy told him sharply. "If you do, you'll become a statistic, very quickly."

"But you don't want to leave, even though it's so dangerous?" Jean asked, curious by what the older girl had said during the meeting. It hadn't taken her long to realize that this young woman was a budding telepath, but Jean had been careful to keep her thoughts carefully shielded, both to protect herself, and to protect Buffy from what she might pick up.

"My situation is unique," was all that Buffy would say. "Have a nice night, and if you can, go straight back to your hotel. You'll appear very vulnerable to the gangs, Professor. Don't put yourself at risk unnecessarily."

"We'll do that, Miss Summers. Thank you for the warning," Charles told her as he maneuvered his chair out of the house, and with Jean and Ororo's help, down the front porch steps. "I look forward to hearing from you."

Buffy stood on the porch with Giles, watching as the three of them got into their rental car and drove off. "Giles, can we talk about this in the morning? I want to make sure they make it back to their house, and I should probably get in an early patrol."

"Of course, Buffy. I'll meet you at the library in the morning," he assured her.

She smiled at him. "Thanks for coming tonight Giles. You've got a stake?"

"And a bottle of holy water, dear girl," he replied fondly. "I'll be careful."

Buffy quickly checked her pockets to make sure she had her stake, her silver knife, and her own bottle of holy water before she leaned back into the house. "Mom, I'm going to patrol! I'll be back in a little while!"

"Be careful Buffy," Joyce told her.

"Always am, Mom. Night, Giles," Buffy told her mentor before she jumped lightly off the porch and set off in the direction of the Ramada Inn, taking a short cut so that she would be able to see when the three New Yorkers arrived at their room.

*******************************************************************

"Professor, what is going on?" Jean asked once they were on their way back to the hotel. "That has to have been the strangest recruitment pitch I've ever heard you give."

Charles sighed softly. Jean was putting it mildly. The entire meeting had been a disaster. He hadn't really thought about what he wanted to say, and because of his reluctance to mention mutation around Elizabeth before he got her back to New York, he hadn't had a really good explanation of why he had picked her.

"Jean," Ororo cautioned the young woman, knowing how sensitive the subject was for the Professor.

"It's all right Storm," he assured his friend. He looked over at Jean. "You're right Jean. I owe you the explanation I promised you, but I would appreciate it if you kept the information just to yourself for now. Kitty is the only other student who knows, and I'd like to keep it that way for the time being."

Jean nodded. Whatever the Professor's secret was, she understood his desire to keep it private. Everyone had secrets, especially the X-Men. The Professor was remarkably open with them, but even he was entitled to keeping a few things private.

Charles took a deep breath before he dropped the bombshell. "I have reason to believe that Buffy Summers is my daughter."

Whatever Jean had expected to hear, it obviously wasn't that, given the surprise that he sensed from her as she processed his words. She blinked several times, opened her mouth to say something, and then closed it when she couldn't find the words.

He gave her some time to think over what he had said before he continued his explanation. "Almost nineteen years ago my wife of just over a year died giving birth to our daughter," he said softly, his blue eyes reflecting the pain. "Not four months later, she was kidnapped in the middle of the night, and I never found her. There was no ransom demand, no clues…no trace of her."

Jean was quiet as she digested the Professor's startling announcement. She was quiet as they pulled into the parking lot of their hotel and as they helped the Professor out of the car. As he was settled back into his wheelchair, Jean finally spoke up. "Professor, I'm afraid I still don't understand. Why do you think she's your daughter?"

"When her gifts first registered on Cerebro, and I saw her picture…I just knew it was her, Jean," Charles said quietly. "She looks exactly like her mother did at the same age. The same hair, the same eyes, the same height…the only difference is the way she was dressed, since my wife grew up in New York."

"But how did she end up way out here?" Jean asked.

"That's the mystery, Jean. I have no idea, and I haven't been able to find any evidence one way or another to confirm my suspicions. There's no sign of adoption papers, legal or illegal, no evidence that Mrs. Summers or her ex-husband have done anything wrong in regards to my Elizabeth…but I know it's her. I know she's my daughter…I just have to prove it."

*******************************************************************

Buffy took a shortcut from her house towards the Ramada Inn by crossing through one of the graveyards. Even though she wasn't sure what to think about Dr. Xavier and his companions, she didn't want to see them fall victim to Sunnydale's "nightlife".

Besides…there was something about them…

She felt drawn to Dr. Xavier in some way, and it was confusing the hell out of her. She had too much to deal with, between Faith, Slaying, the Ascension, and the end of the school year, and now her demon telepathy. She didn't need any more complications in her life, but that of course guaranteed that the Powers that Be would throw her another one when she least expected it.

A soft growl from her right caught her attention and her Slayer senses tingled just before a vampire leapt at her. She grabbed it in mid-air and flipped it to the ground, yanking out her stake and slamming it home.

Was it just her, or were the vamps getting stupider every night? No wonder the Master vampires were so respected and there were so many fledglings willing to be minions. The Master vampires knew how to survive, because they didn't throw their lives away at a whim just for a meal.

She shook her head and continued on. Fortunately, it was still early enough that she probably wouldn't be attacked again, which meant that as long as Dr. Xavier and his friends did as they were told, they would probably be safe too. As she crossed to the other side of the graveyard, she immediately turned onto Main Street and followed it down past the Sun Cinema and the Espresso Pump.

When she reached the end of the block, she turned left and headed south along Elm Street. Three blocks up she could see the Ramada Inn sign lit up – and for the vampires, she knew it was essentially saying "All You Can Eat Buffet". She'd dusted several vampires in this area over the last three years, but fortunately, there had been no deaths inside the hotel in the time she'd been here. If she could make sure that the three New Yorkers made it inside the building, they would most likely be fine for the rest of the night, provided they didn't try to go out again.

She reached the hotel and loitered near the wheelchair ramp, hanging back far enough that she wouldn't be noticed by them, but close enough that she could hear and see if they ran into any trouble.

Her shortcut paid off, as the car that they had been driving pulled into the parking lot a scant two minutes later. She watched quietly from her position as they exited the vehicle, taking several minutes to get Dr. Xavier settled in his wheelchair.

Jean's voice carried to where she was standing. "I don't know if we'll be able to convince her, Professor. I know why this is important, but..."

Dr. Xavier cut her off abruptly. "No, Jean, you don't. I have been looking for her for a long time, and I refuse to lose her now. She may be the most important recruit that we get, and I will not let anyone else get to her first."

_A/N: Short tonight, I know, but don't forget to drop me a review! I thrive on your encouraging words!_


	16. Chapter 15: Building Uncertainty

**_Author's Note: Hey everyone, here's the next update for you, much sooner than I had anticipated. It's amazing how much brainstorming you can get done when you sit in front of a paper shredder for seven hours! Hope you enjoy, and don't forget to read and review!_**

**_Author's Note 2: 9/27/2009 - Some revisions have been made to this chapter as well._**

"_Not to be absolutely certain is, I think, one of the essential things in rationality."_

_- Bertrand Russell_

Charles paused just before entering the hotel, his hand on the door handle. He turned his chair slowly and scanned the parking lot, not seeing anyone, but having a sense that someone was out there. For a moment, he wondered if it could be one of the gangs that Elizabeth had mentioned, but he didn't feel any sense of danger.

Lowering his shields just a trifle, he scanned the parking lot again, and this time he was able to pinpoint it. _Elizabeth…_

She was unmistakable to his telepathy. Her uncertain, pulsing shield…even the _feel_ of her...she lit up to his mind like a beacon. But what was she doing loitering outside the hotel? After warning them that it wasn't safe outside at night, why was she here?

"Jean."

The young woman in question turned and Charles pointed over to where Elizabeth was standing. Jean nodded, understanding, and started to make her way over to where the other girl. Charles watched from his place by the door, feeling Ororo watching from behind them as she held the door to the hotel open.

As soon as Jean started walking towards Elizabeth, however, the older girl straightened and turned, hurrying away and disappearing into the darkness. Jean stopped and watched her go, before turning and hurrying back over to where Charles and Ororo were waiting.

"She's gone, Professor," Jean said, sounding sorry.

Charles sighed. "Don't worry about it, Jean. If she needs to talk, she'll find us again."

Together they went inside the hotel and up to the room they had rented. Once they were inside the room, Charles – remembering what Elizabeth had told him – latched the chain on the door, and threw the deadbolt as well.

Jean settled on one of the two queen sized beds, while Ororo took a seat in the chair near the window. The younger woman looked at her teachers, before focusing on Charles. "Professor, what are we going to do now?"

"We'll give her until the end of the weekend, and if she hasn't decided at that point, we'll make sure she has the school's contact information and go home," Charles replied quietly. "I don't want to leave her here, but coming to the school has to be her choice."

"She's a telepath, isn't she?" Jean asked. "I wasn't sure when we saw her at the school this morning, but when we were at her house…"

Charles nodded. "From what I was able to tell, she's going to be a very powerful telepath," he agreed. "Most budding telepaths wouldn't be able to erect as strong of a shield as she's managed, even if it is shaky and being held together through sheer force of will."

Ororo leaned forward slightly. "Charles, I understand why you don't want to tell her about being your daughter, but I'm afraid I still don't understand why you don't want to tell her she's a mutant. The news might be difficult to accept, but once she accepts that, won't it be easier to tell her the truth about your identity?"

"It might come to that, Ororo," he tried to explain. "But…" he shook his head. "I just have this sense that she'll have more difficulty accepting it if I tell her here, rather than back at the school."

"Is that your instincts as a teacher talking, or your fatherly instincts?" Ororo asked.

*******************************************************************

Buffy spotted Jean heading towards her and realized that she'd been seen. How, she wasn't certain, but it didn't matter. She turned quickly and headed off into the night, hoping the redhead wouldn't follow her.

Suddenly, she changed her course. There was so much going on, and she needed some good advice. Instead of heading for the cemeteries, she headed for the outskirts of town, wanting desperately to talk to Angel. Surely he could help her decide what to do, what to think about all of this. Dr. Xavier seemed nice enough. A little odd, to be certain, but nice enough and sincere enough in what he was offering her.

She wasn't stupid. She didn't know if it was her SAT scores alone that had gotten her into Northwestern, and her grades weren't that great. To actually have the head of an exclusive private school come to her personally to enroll her was a big deal. He had just seemed too uncertain about how he was going to structure the school around her...as if he hadn't really thought it through. That was suspicious enough.

She stopped a block or so away from the hotel and checked to make sure that Jean wasn't following her. Crossing through Sunnydale on foot at night was not smart, but fortunately it seemed as if the younger girl had stayed at the hotel. That brought some measure of relief to Buffy.

She started out again, heading as quickly as she could towards Angel's mansion. He had promised that he would stay in as much as possible to research why her telepathy had returned. Even though that meant that he wouldn't be on the streets patrolling, she was more concerned about getting rid of her unwanted power again. Since vampires didn't have an effect on her telepathy, fighting them didn't do anything to increase her stress level of trying to block them out.

As she reached Crawford Street, she increased her pace to a run. She needed Angel. Even though they couldn't be as intimate as they had been last year, having him around was still comforting to her, and he had seen enough in his long life that very little shocked him anymore. She was able to rely on his steadiness in a fight, as well as his ability to protect himself and fight back, which was often easier for her than when she fought with the Scoobies and had to protect them at the same time.

Reaching the mansion, she descended the garden stairs and hurried over to the French doors with their heavy black drapes. Opening the door, she shoved the curtains aside and spotted Angel immediately. He was sitting by the fire again, a stack of books beside him as he poured through them, looking for a solution to her problem.

"Angel?"

He looked up immediately and rose abruptly to his feet as he caught sight of how pale she was. "Buffy? What is it?"

"I-I'm not sure," she managed, before forcing out a slightly shrill laugh. "I don't even know what to think or do…everything is falling apart, and the Powers are still throwing crap at me left and right. There's only so much I can take!"

Her voice had become more hysterical as she spoke, and Angel looked alarmed and uneasy. As she finished ranting, he pulled her into his arms and rubbed her back comfortingly. "Buffy, you're not making and sense. Calm down and tell me what's wrong."

She took several deep breaths and allowed him to support her weight as she slowly tried to bring some form of order to her chaotic thoughts. As much as she would love to throw a tantrum right about now, it wouldn't be productive in any way.

Angel led her over to the couch and sat down beside her. He let her go and turned to face her, watching her earnestly. As soon as he saw that she had calmed down, he smiled at her. "That's better. Now, what happened?"

"It isn't enough that I have to try to survive high school while fighting vampires and regularly stopping the end of the world, is it? Now I have to deal with this stupid mind-reading – for a second time I might add, and the Powers seem to think it's fun to throw more at me!"

"Buffy, I'm still working on the solution to your telepathy – " Angel began, but Buffy waved him off.

"I know, Angel, and I don't blame you for not finding anything. Wesley and Giles are working around the clock on it too. I know it's not a common occurrence," she assured him.

"Then what's wrong?"

"Today when I was at school talking to Wesley and Giles, a man came into the library and introduced himself as Dr. Xavier," Buffy told him. "He had one of his students with him and he was talking about trying to enroll me in this school that he runs for gifted students after graduation. Apparently the school is in New York."

"That's a good thing, isn't it?" Angel asked. "It would get you away from the Hellmouth."

"Yeah, but something about it isn't right," Buffy said. "Mom, Giles, and I met with him just a little while ago and…I don't know, it's giving me the wiggins." She told Angel all about the meeting and everything that had been said. "After they left, I followed them back to the hotel, to make sure they wouldn't be attacked. While I was watching them get in I overheard them talking, and Dr. Xavier specifically said that he _had_ to get me to come to his school, that I was the most important student that he would try to recruit."

Angel blinked in surprise at that news. "What do you think about it?"

Buffy shook her head violently. "I don't know. I-I mean, I know that I'm not going to be actively recruited by that many schools, even with my SAT scores. I still think Northwestern was a fluke. But the way he was so earnest...it creeps me out. I _know_ I've never met him, and Giles didn't say anything about him being from the Council...is there anyway that he could have found out about me being the Slayer?"

"Did he say anything that would indicate he knew?" Angel asked, calmly.

"Just…he said something about my gifts registering on Cerebro, whatever that means." Buffy looked desperate. "Angel, I'm confused, and I'm tired of being the butt of the Powers' practical jokes."

Angel reached out and wrapped his arms around her again. "I know, Buffy."

"How much more do they expect me to be able to take?" Buffy wailed.

"I don't know, Buffy…but we'll get to the bottom of this," Angel promised her. "We just need to try to focus on one thing at a time. Forget about what Dr. Xavier said for now. Whether or not it's true, we'll be able to deal with it once we get this business with your telepathy sorted out."

Buffy suddenly stiffened in his arms. "Wait." A thoughtful look crossed her face. "There's something…when I was talking to them tonight…Mom and Giles were putting pressure on my telepathy, but somehow I was blocking them out…but I didn't sense anything from the Professor or his friends."

"What do you mean?" Angel asked, looking at her closely.

"They were in the room…but my sense of them was the same as what I feel right now – when I am with you," Buffy said slowly. "They were blank to me."

It was Angel's turn to look thoughtful. "With something like telepathy, that doesn't happen," he said slowly. "Vampires are immune to it…but humans aren't."

"They weren't vampires," Buffy said firmly. "I shook hands with all three of them, and they were warm, breathing, and had a pulse."

"Then that means…" Angel trailed off and stood up abruptly to grab a thick book from the pile he'd been checking. He opened it and began flipping through it rapidly. Stopping at one particular page, he scanned the text rapidly, nodding to himself after a minute. "Buffy, the first time this manifested, you were sensing everything, right?"

Buffy nodded, confused. "Not at first, but yeah, by the end of the first day I couldn't block anything out."

Angel closed the book and tucked it under his arm before he went to help Buffy to her feet. "We need to go and talk to Giles."

"What is it? What did you find?"

"I don't want to say anything until Giles confirms it, Buffy. I don't want to get your hopes up if I'm wrong," the vampire told her gently.

Still confused, Buffy followed him out into the night. "I think Giles was going to go home and research this from there. We were going to meet at the library tomorrow morning with the rest of the Scoobies."

Angel nodded and together they set out for Giles' apartment.

*******************************************************************

_Ramada Inn…_

"What do you mean, Ororo?" Charles asked.

Ororo looked thoughtful as she tried to explain her comment. "You're protective with the students – even with Logan and I at times. There's nothing wrong with that," she hastened to assure him, "but I've never seen you this protective with any potential student. I know this is a special circumstance, with Buffy being your daughter, but are you trying to protect her as a teacher…or _because_ she's your daughter?"

Charles started to reply, but then closed his mouth and thought about Ororo's point. The weather witch could be extremely intuitive at times, and this seemed like one of those times.

_Was_ he overly sheltering Elizabeth by not telling her about her mutation and giving her a reason to come to his school? He had thought to take a different tack with her because she was the oldest student he'd ever approached, with the exception of Ororo and Logan. But was Ororo right? Was he letting his need to protect the daughter he hadn't seen in eighteen years interfere with the protection he offered all of the young mutants that he recruited?

"You might be right, Ororo," he said slowly. "I haven't seen her in eighteen years. I missed her entire life up to this point, and I failed to protect her after I swore that I would always be there to look out for her." He looked up at the dark-skinned woman, and Ororo could see tears in his eyes. "When Lizzie died, it ripped my heart out. Even though we'd known each other for years – had been engaged for over ten years – we'd only been married for just over a year. Elizabeth was the only thing that kept me going. Then she disappeared, and I thought I was going to die all over again."

He fell silent for a moment, looking between Jean and Ororo as he gathered his thoughts again. "That may sound overly dramatic to you, but I've lost so many people in my life, losing both of them within months of each other…it was almost more than I could take. I became a recluse until I met you and Logan, Ororo."

He paused again. "Now Elizabeth is here. I'm so close to getting her back and I don't want to take the chance of losing her again."

Ororo reached out and grasped his hand. "I don't know what you're going through emotionally Charles, but I do think that you need to reconsider your approach with her before she gives us her answer. It could mean the difference between the two of you reconnecting or you losing her forever."

*******************************************************************

Buffy knocked on Giles' door before stepping back to wait with Angel. All on the trip over here, she had tried to get him to tell her what he was thinking, but he had gently refused each time.

She heard footsteps and a moment later Giles opened the apartment door, a crossbow in his left hand, loaded and ready to fire.

"Chill, Giles, it's just us," Buffy reassured him. "Angel thinks he's found out something about my telepathy."

Giles opened the door wider and stepped aside to let them in. "What did you find?"

"Buffy was telling me about the visits she's had with this Dr. Xavier," Angel began. "She realized that during the meeting you guys had tonight neither the professor or his companions were putting any pressure on her mind."

"When I'm with Angel, he's a blank to me," Buffy explained, knowing that she hadn't told Giles this before, since it gave her a sanctuary if they couldn't find a way to get rid of her pesky new "problem". "He told me that vampires are immune to telepathy, and I realized that was getting the same sense with Dr. Xavier and the others."

"The last time her telepathy manifested, it was because of the demon blood, and she couldn't block anything out. When she was with me, that was the only place that she could feel safe, since I don't impinge on her mind in anyway," Angel smoothly picked up the thread of explanation. "Now, however, she seems to be able to block everything except the Scoobies – with difficulty – but she still feels those minds like a pressure, even if she's not hearing any actually thoughts."

Dawning realization crossed Giles' face. "And since we know Dr. Xavier and his companions aren't vampires…"

"She should be able to sense them, but she can't. Which means…"

"The cure did work and this second round of telepathy is something different," Giles finished.

Angel nodded and opened the book he had brought with him. He found the passage that had caught his interest at the mansion and showed it to Giles. The Watcher skimmed the book's entry, before going back and rereading it more slowly. "Good Lord," he murmured as he removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "I didn't think it was possible…"

Angel nodded and looked over at Buffy. "She's a natural, and the demon unlocked her powers."

"It's never been heard of before," Giles protested half-heartedly. "The odds of it happening are astronomical."

"What?" Buffy asked impatiently. 'What are you two talking about?"

Angel led Buffy over to the couch and pulled her down. "Buffy, it's a very rare occurrence, but just like there are true Seers and witches, there has been documented evidence of real, human telepaths."

"Your ability to block out most people except those closest to you this time when you couldn't before is a telling discovery, Buffy," Giles added. "It's one of the signs of an emerging telepath."

Buffy blinked at the two of them. "Wait…what are you saying?"

"We can't make your telepathy go away this time, Buffy." Angel's voice was gentle as he reached out and brushed the back of his hand against her cheek. "It's a natural ability, and now that it is active, you'll have it for the rest of your life."

She stared at them wordlessly. Her mouth opened, then closed.

"What likely happened it that your telepathy was untapped and deeply buried in your mind." Giles sat down on an armchair across from where Angel and Buffy were sharing the couch. "When you became infected with the demon's blood, that forced telepathy somehow unlocked your dormant powers."

"And once psychic powers are tapped and unlocked, that channel is always open. There's no closing it," Angel finished.

"So…"

"So all we can do is try to teach you how to control it." Giles removed his glasses again and reached for a handkerchief to polish them. "Admittedly, I don't know much about telepathy. It's not a very well-documented gift, because it is so rare. All Watchers receive some training in establishing and maintaining a mental shield, but that was never my strong suit."

Buffy looked stunned. "I can't get rid of it?"

Angel shook his head. "No, Buffy. It'll be with you for the rest of your life."

"I find it interesting that you would be a natural telepath, and the Slayer, however," Giles mused out loud. "I don't think there has ever been an instance where the Slayer has been telepathic. We've had one or two that were classified as borderline Seers, and a few that had a knack for understanding and manipulating magical forces. This is a first. I don't know of anyone – even in the Council – who would have the knowledge to teach you proper control of your telepathy."

"What are we going to do?" Buffy asked.

Giles sighed. "I don't kn-wait a moment." He looked at Angel. "You said that vampires are immune to telepathy, yes?"

Angel nodded. "But it's involuntary. I don't know anything more about training it than you do."

"No, no that's not what I mean," Giles said, looking excited. "Buffy, to you Angel is just a blank, right? You see him but you can't sense him, whereas someone like Xander, Willow, or I, you see us and you feel us putting pressure on your mind?"

Buffy nodded, still stunned and uncertain where her Watcher was going with this.

"Which way did you say Dr. Xavier and his friends appeared to you?"

Buffy thought about it for a moment and realization crossed her face. "They were like…Angel…but they're not vampires."

"Which means one of two things," Giles said. "Either all three of them are telepaths –which I find highly doubtful considering how rare the gift is – or they know a telepath who taught them the proper way to shield themselves from one."

Angel and Buffy looked at each other before looking at Giles again. The Watcher rose to his feet. "We need to talk to Dr. Xavier again."

"Giles, there's something…" Buffy began, intending to tell Giles about what she had overheard at the hotel, but then she paused.

"Buffy? What is it?" Giles asked, noting her pause.

Buffy continued to hesitate. She wasn't sure she believed what she had overheard, and even Angel had seemed skeptical. It was just too much to believe that someone who apparently knew how to block a telepath would show up in search of her.

No, it would be better to wait and find out more about her new "gift" before they broached that territory.

"Nothing, Giles. It's nothing."


	17. Chapter 16: Asking

_Author's Note: Hey all! Here's another post for you. Not a lot of really exciting stuff happens here, but it felt like something that was necessary. With any luck, the next chapter will be out soon, my muses are moving and grooving for me now. It has actually become a matter of finding the time to sit down and write! Hope you enjoy, and don't forget to read and review._

_**Chapter Sixteen: Asking**_

"_Some novel power sprang up forever at a touch; and hope could never hope too much, in watching thee from hour to hour."_

_- Alfred Tennyson (In Memoriam. cxii. Stanza 3) _

_Ramada Inn…the next morning…May 1st, 1999_

Buffy stared at her target and took a deep breath. She needed to be calm if she was going to do this. It wasn't that big a deal, after all.

Why was she kidding herself? She was as nervous as she had been the night she went to fight the Master, or the morning she had faced Angelus. This was a big deal, and if Giles and Angel were right, it would change her life forever – again.

She took another deep breath and headed inside the hotel, moving up to the reception desk. The clerk gave her a bored look. "Welcome to the Sunnydale Ramada Inn. How can I help you?"

Buffy cleared her throat. "Um, yes. I'm looking for Dr. Charles Xavier. Could you tell me which room he's in?"

"I'm sorry, I can't give out that information."

"Could you…I don't know…call his room and tell him that he has a visitor?" Buffy asked, trying not to show her irritation.

The clerk sighed and turned to his computer. He typed for a moment, before reaching for the phone and picking up the handset. He pressed several numbers on the keypad before listening. "Yes, Dr. Xavier please." Another pause. "Dr. Xavier, this is the front desk. There's a visitor here asking to see you." He listened again and nodded. "Yes, sir. I'll let her know." He hung up and turned to Buffy. "Dr. Xavier said that he would be right down."

"Thank you," Buffy said politely. "I'm just going to wait over here." She moved over to sit on a padded chair near the door.

_What am I doing? I should just go_, she thought to herself. _No harm, no foul. Giles and Angel could be wrong. There could be a way to get rid of this stupid telepathy. Yeah, I'll just leave and then call him tonight and tell him I said no to his school. Northwestern is a great school, and if that doesn't work out, I've got UC Sunnydale. I'll still have a life._

She rose to her feet, and started to turn towards the door. She would just go back and meet up with Giles and Wesley and help them with their research into telepathy and the different ways they could try to get rid of it.

"Miss Summers?"

She froze and closed her eyes. It was too late. She'd waited too long.

*******************************************************************

Charles hung up the phone. A visitor downstairs? It had to be Elizabeth. She was the only person that he knew here in Sunnydale. He headed for the door.

"Professor? Who was that?" Jean asked, looking up from her work.

"The desk clerk. It appears that Elizabeth has come to talk to me," he replied calmly, even though his heart was pounding with anticipation. This could be the perfect time to tell her everything. She wasn't with her mentor or Mrs. Summers. She had come to him, which implied that she was willing to listen to what he had to say. She had to know about her gift, and she had probably figured out that he might have an answer for her. This would make it easier to explain everything – about her mutation, about his identity…

He had done a lot of thinking last night after returning from her house, and he had realized that Ororo was right. He had been trying too hard to shelter his daughter, and unless he was honest with her, about everything, he'd never earn her trust. He still didn't know what had happened to her to make her so wary and cautious, but lying to her wouldn't aid his cause.

"Do you want us to come with you?" Ororo asked, looking over from the window.

"No, thank you, Ororo. I would like to meet with her alone. If I need you, I'll call," he said with a smile. He made sure he had a room key with him, just in case Ororo and Jean had to leave, and then headed down to the lobby to meet with his daughter.

As he emerged from the elevator, he looked around the lobby but didn't see her. He frowned slightly, wondering if she had left before he could get here. He glanced over at the desk clerk, but the man was involved in something at the desk and didn't notice him.

A flash of gold and movement caught his eye and he turned his head, seeing his daughter had risen to her feet from a chair near the door. He sent his chair in that direction. "Miss Summers?"

She froze for a moment, before she looked over at him and smiled, albeit weakly. "Good morning, Professor."

He moved over towards her and returned her smile and her greeting. "Good morning. What may I help you with?"

Buffy hesitated for a moment as she tried to decide how to bring up the topic that was on her mind. Even if Angel and Giles were right in their guesses and Dr. Xavier either _was_ a telepath or had been trained by one, it wasn't exactly an easy topic to discuss.

To most people, Buffy knew, telepathy was a myth, a science fiction plot device. Even though she lived and breathed the impossible on a daily basis, and even though her imagination stretched pretty far in regards to the weird and the unexplained, even she had never really believed in telepathy.

At least, not until she had been cursed with it.

The Professor seemed to understand her hesitation. "Do you, perhaps, want to discuss your special gifts?"

Buffy nodded slowly. "I – I need help, and I think you might be the only one who can."

"Then you have it," he told her sincerely. "Why don't we go up to my room. Jean and Ms. Munro are up there, and we can discuss things privately."

Buffy hesitated again, but finally nodded and followed him over to the elevator. She was quiet until they reached his road and he ushered her inside. Jean and Ororo both looked up as they entered and smiled in greeting. Jean was seated on one of the two beds, books and papers spread out on the coverlet, and Ororo was at the table in the corner, a book open in front of her.

*******************************************************************

Walking up to his hotel room with his daughter forced Charles to keep a tight rein on his emotions. He wanted to tell her, but he still couldn't. The fact that she had come to him for help was a step in the right direction, and it gave him hope that he could still reach her and reclaim her.

Once they were settled in his room, Charles indicated that she could sit anywhere she wanted and watched as she moved over to perch on the edge of the windowsill.

"Miss Summers, as I told you downstairs, I am offering you my help with your gifts." He gave her a serious look. "I know you have a special ability of some kind."

"Call me Buffy," she said quietly. "Only my teachers call me Miss Summers, and then only when I'm in trouble."

"All right, Buffy," he agreed, despite the part of him that cringed at the idea of calling her such a ridiculous and demeaning name. He had named her for his beautiful, loving wife, and the idea that she would willingly respond to something like 'Buffy' horrified him.

She hesitated for a long moment, before she started speaking. "I don't know what you mean by a special ability. I – I mean, I'm not a math or science genius, I don't sing like an angel, or play an instrument like – like Mozart or that deaf guy who wrote all the symphonies. If anything, what I can do is probably enough to guarantee my admission to an mental institution, never mind your school."

He smiled reassuringly at her. "I already knew that it didn't have anything to do with math, science, or music, Buffy. I've seen a lot of strange things, and I doubt there's anything you could tell me that would convince me that you belong in an institution. I don't look for the 'normal' types of gifts. I look for the very, _very_ special ones."

She bit her lower lip for a moment before nodded and taking a deep breath. "Lately I've been…god…I've been hearing other people's thoughts. It started almost a week and a half ago. When it first started, I couldn't block anything out and after two days, I was just hearing what sounded like white noise."

Charles frowned slightly. _A week and a half? Cerebro should have detected her right away, not just a few days ago._

Buffy was still speaking quietly. "I thought I was going to go crazy, but then it just stopped and I wasn't hearing anything. Everything was quiet for a few days and then it started again, but this time I can block almost everyone out. Only my mom and my closest friends seem to get through, and it happens randomly."

The first part of her story didn't make sense. Once a telepath's powers started to emerge, they didn't just – in his experience – stop, only to start up again after several days. Telepathy was one of the most dangerous psychic abilities, because the stronger the telepath naturally was, the easier it was to invade and influence other people's minds. Of course, that also worked in reverse. The stronger the telepath, the easier it was to pick up on the thoughts of others, and if the telepath didn't learn proper shielding techniques right away, they would soon be driven mad by the constant barrage of thoughts and emotions from the people around them.

The second part of her story, however, did make sense. Instinctively, she had learned how to erect a very basic telepathic shield, and she was only holding it in place through sheer will power. As a result, while she could block off the thoughts of others, the people whom she was closest too – Joyce and her friends – wouldn't be as easy to block out, because of the bonds that they shared with her.

"And by the look on your face, I know you probably think I'm crazy, and I have no idea why I'm even here or why I thought that you might be able to help me. Forget I ever came to talk to you and let's just pretend this never happened." She rose to her feet and started to head towards the door.

Charles blinked himself out of his reverie as her words broke through his musings. "No, please, Buffy. Don't go. I don't think you're crazy."

She paused, a look of extreme skepticism on her face. "You don't?"

"No," he insisted quietly. "What you told me only confirms what I already knew about you being special. You're not the first person I've met who has the gift of telepathy."

"I'm not?" she asked, now sounding hopeful. "But I thought – I mean – I was told it was a really rare power."

"Not as rare as you might think," he assured her. "Please, sit down, and I'll try to explain."

_Do you want us to be here for this, Professor?_ Ororo thought at him as Buffy hesitated and retook her perch on the windowsill.

_**Please stay, Ororo. I may need your help to convince her**_, he sent back quickly. He noticed Elizabeth frown as if she had somehow picked up on their communication, but after a moment, she turned her attention back to him. He paused for a moment, trying to decide what he was going to say. He wanted to tell her that she was a telepath because _he_ was her father and _he _ was a telepath, but that would only frighten her off or make her so angry that she'd leave.

"Buffy, I know you're not crazy, because I am also a telepath," he finally just told her straight out. There would be time later to explain about their connection, but right now he needed to get her to accept the idea that being telepathic wasn't a bad thing.

Buffy blinked at him, but didn't look entirely surprised. "Is that the reason that you came to Sunnydale looking for me?"

He nodded. "Yes. In recent years, more and more people have been finding out that they have special gifts and powers – some rare, some unusual, and some that I don't think the best science fiction writer could dream up. Those of us that know about these gifts – and there aren't very many, because the number of people who have them are so few at the moment – have been able to link these powers to an odd genetic mutation."

"Genetic? You mean, like DNA or something?" Buffy asked, a frown crossing her face.

"Exactly. From what research we've been able to do, whenever this tiny anomaly shows up in a person's DNA, at some point in their childhood or teenage years, the mutated gene will become active, and trigger a special gift that will then remain active for the rest of that person's life. All of us," he indicated Jean and Ororo and himself with a wave, "are mutants, with special skills and abilities."

Buffy's frown deepened. "You are?"

Charles nodded. Lowering his shields just a bit, he reached out with his powers and found her mind. Even though she was shielding, however clumsily, his stronger, more developed powers easily pierced her shield. _**As I mentioned, like you, I am a telepath, Buffy. I've had my powers since I was in the sixth grade.**_

Her eyes widened and she winced at hearing his mental "voice". He backed off slightly. "Don't be afraid, Buffy," he told her, switching to speech. "I won't hurt you. You've managed to erect a shield, which is very good for someone so early into her powers. I simply have more experience with telepathy and shielding than you do."

"Are – are all three of you telepaths?" she asked after a moment. "I – I can't sense any of you. Most of the time the people around me are putting a pressure on my mind, even though I'm usually not hearing their thoughts. But, none of you are."

Jean leaned forward. "I'm a telepath as well, Buffy. I also have the gift of telekinesis."

"Tele-huh?"

"The ability to move things around with my mind," Jean explained. She indicated the books and papers in front of her. "Watch." She narrowed her eyes as if concentrating, and a moment later the books and papers rose into the air without anything touching them.

Buffy blinked, but otherwise didn't react to the rather extraordinary display. Charles wondered about that, but then decided that it must be because once a person accepted telepathy as real, other psychic gifts were much easier to accept.

Ororo gently entered the conversation. "I'm not a telepath, Buffy," she explained. "My powers involve weather manipulation. I can control the weather at will, and I can command the wind to carry me, which allows me to fly if I choose."

"Fly?" Buffy asked, sounding skeptical.

Ororo nodded. "I'll show you sometime when we're not in such a public area. So few people are aware of the growing mutant population, and we don't want to start a panic yet."

"But if you're not a telepath, why can't I sense you?" Buffy asked.

"I taught them how to shield their thoughts properly from a telepath Buffy. It's one of the things that I teach all of my students. Jean had to learn because of her telepathy, but I taught all the others, because it helps those of us that are telepathic. For new telepaths, it can sometimes be difficult to keep a shield up at all times, and the more people who know how to shield properly, the less chance that a telepath will overhear something if their shield accidentally drops."

"So this school that you were talking about…"

"Is for young mutants," Charles said. "Most mutations emerge much earlier than yours has. When I find these young mutants, I invite them to my school to teach them proper control of their gifts. They attend the local high school during the day, and in the afternoons and on weekends, they work with myself, Ororo, and one other teacher to learn how to harness their powers safely so that they can become productive members of society."

He moved his chair a little bit closer to her. "You're older than most of the students I've found, Buffy, which is why I would try to get you into New York University. It's only a short distance from my home – where I have my school – to the main campus in the city. I was a tenured professor at that school as well, almost twenty years ago, and we parted on good terms. I have no doubt that if I recommended you for enrollment, they would admit you, even at this late date, especially since you wouldn't be boarding with them."

She closed her eyes and hung her head. "Why, damn it?" she muttered to herself. "When is enough going to be enough?"

He frowned, catching himself before reprimanding her for her language. He knew that learning that she was a mutant had to be overwhelming, and he needed to make allowances for her youth and her stress level, although he was curious to know what her last comment meant.

After a long moment, she looked up. "Can you help me? Can you teach me to do this shield thing that you were talking about?"

He nodded. "I can teach you yes, but you're the one who is going to have to practice it and force yourself to maintain it until it becomes instinctive. The students at my school all know how to shield themselves, so you would have a place where you wouldn't have to worry as much about the people around you for a few months..."

"I can't leave Sunnydale, Professor." Her tone was flat and non-compromising.

"I don't understand. You are considering Northwestern and they're in Chicago," he began.

"I applied to Northwestern as a second option, Professor, but I never really expected that they would accept me, and even if they did, I never really planned on leaving," Buffy said. "I can't explain it to you, but there are good reasons why I can't leave Sunnydale." She sighed. "I will probably be enrolling at UC Sunnydale in a few weeks."

Charles didn't know what to say in response to her matter-of-fact statement. He didn't know why she was so adamant about not leaving. As nice a town as Sunnydale was – very much like Bayville, with all the amenities of a small town, and many of the amenities of a large city, it just didn't seem to be the right place for her. He didn't know what had happened to put those dark looks in her eyes, or to make her so tense and wary.

But, just as he had once before, several years ago with another student who didn't want to admit what he was, he knew that he would have to accept her decision – at least until he found some type of proof to confirm her identity.

"All right, Buffy. But the invitation to come to New York will always be open to you," he told her quietly. "If you still want my help…"

Buffy closed her eyes for a moment. "I do. I don't know how to control this on my own."

"All right," he said, wanting to reach for her, but forcing himself not to move. "I can teach you enough to protect yourself. How to shield your mind and how to keep from projecting what you're thinking to others. Depending on how quickly you learn those, I can try to teach you how to make yourself invisible to other telepaths and psychics."

"That sounds nice," Buffy said quietly. "It's been getting harder and harder for me to keep from hearing the thoughts of people around me, and not being able to block my friends out…"

"Do they know?" he asked, sharply. He had felt fortunate that thus far hardly anyone was aware of the growing mutant population. He had no doubt that there would be an outcry when the truth came out, but for the moment it was better that no one knew. It was his hope that when the mutant population did step forward to announce themselves to the rest of the world, they would be able to do so as a strong resource, and a benefit to mankind, with their powers fully under control.

Buffy nodded. "Yeah, they do. They're a little freaked out about it, because they don't like the idea that I can hear what they're thinking. But once I get it under control, they'll be cool with it. I hope."

Charles sighed. He didn't really like this idea, and he was tempted to find out who his daughter's friends were and wipe their memories of her power from their minds. Doing so would preserve her secret, as well as the secret of the rest of the mutant community.

But he also knew that if he did something like that and his daughter found out, she'd lose all trust in him, no matter what his reasons were. He couldn't do anything that would drive her away from him, even though it meant that he was putting the rest of his students at risk.

"All right," he finally said. "The first thing that we'll need to do is help you establish a proper shield. You've managed to create one through force of will, which is very impressive for a new telepath, but it's still very fragile and it's not going to give you the proper protection."

"Right now?" Buffy asked, hope flaring in her expression before her face became shuttered. "I – I mean I have some time this morning, if you don't mind."

"It would be my pleasure. The sooner we get started, the sooner the strain on your powers will ease."

Ororo rose to her feet and nodded towards Jean. "We'll go out and let the two of you work in peace." Jean nodded in agreement and rose to her feet as well, grabbing her purse before following the older woman to the door.

Buffy looked hesitant about being in the room alone with the Professor, and Charles hastened to reassure her. "It's easier the first time you learn to shield properly if there is only one other person around, Buffy. That limits the number of people whose thoughts you might pick up on."

"Before I figured out how to block most of the people around me though, I was hearing everything from anyone. I could hear everyone at school, all of my neighbors. There are still a lot of people in the hotel, right?"

Charles blinked. _That _ was a surprise. It took most new telepaths a while to learn to sense anyone beyond their immediate vicinity. When he had shaken his daughter's hand at the school library the previous day, he'd been able to tell that she was going to be a powerful telepath, but the information she had just given him told him that her powers were much stronger than he had expected for someone who's abilities were just starting to emerge.

"That's true," he said slowly.

"I know somewhere we can go where there isn't going to be anyone around," Buffy said. "It's on the outskirts of town, and far enough away that I don't feel anyone's thoughts trying to break through my shield."

Charles nodded. The more isolated they could be during these first lessons, the better chance she would have of succeeding. "All right. If you would feel more comfortable there, I have no objections."

Buffy nodded. Angel's mansion would be a perfect place to work on this. Even though it was broad daylight and Angel couldn't leave them alone, the fact that he was a vampire gave her an extra level of protection. She didn't have to worry about blocking him out.

She rose from her place at the window and moved towards the door where Ororo and Jean were still waiting. As the Professor turned to follow her, he looked at his friends. "You don't need to leave unless you want to."

Ororo smiled. "I think we'll go for a walk, maybe look at some of the shops around here."

Buffy looked at them sharply. "Just be back in before sunset."

The two women looked at her oddly. "What is so dangerous about this town, Buffy? You told us to come straight back here last night, but we saw you outside the hotel as we pulled up," Jean wondered, eyeing the older, smaller girl.

"I know how to keep myself safe from the gangs," Buffy said. "Visitors and tourists are easy targets for them. I just wanted to make sure that you made it back safely. If you are not careful, you will get hurt or killed."

Before they could question her further, she pushed open the door and headed down the hallway. Charles glanced between Ororo and Jean. "Be careful. I think there is more going on here than we know."

Both women nodded in understanding of his quiet admonition. Whatever had their mentor's daughter so wary and secretive, they needed to approach it with caution.


	18. Chapter 17: The Power of Thought

_**Author's Note: Hey everyone! Couple of important things today before you read this chapter. I have gone back and edited and made some pretty big revisions to chapters fourteen and fifteen. As I was writing this, I wanted a very large cliffhanger, but I realized I'd already blown the surprise I was going for a couple of chapters back. So please, before you read this chapter, go back and reread chapters fourteen and fifteen – and forget that Buffy overheard Charles and Jean discussing whether or not she was his daughter.**_

_**Sorry for the confusion, but I hope you enjoy this chapter nonetheless!**_

_**Chapter Seventeen: The Power of Thought**_

"_The power of thought – the magic of the mind!"_

_Lord Byron (The Corsair, Canto I, Stanza 8)_

_Angel's Mansion… a few minutes later…_

Charles eyed the mansion as they approached. Made all of native stone, it was easily the largest home in the area, and it was set on the outskirts of town, just as Buffy had promised. There were other houses along the street, but they all appeared to be abandoned or vacant.

Lowering his shields a trifle, he quickly scanned the houses in the vicinity and confirmed his surmise. There was no sign of anyone in any of the houses. This would be an ideal place for them to work on controlling Elizabeth's emerging powers.

As they reached the driveway, Buffy paused for a moment, thinking. She usually came in through the French doors that led into the garden, but her companion wouldn't be able to get in that way because of the steps that led from the street level down into the garden. The only real option was to come in through the front door.

Having made up her mind, she headed up the drive and over to the front door. Fortunately, she knew Angel kept the doors unlocked, since most people believed that the mansion was abandoned. Even if anyone was stupid enough to break in, Angel could easily take care of any intruders.

"Buffy, do you know the owner of this place?" the Professor asked from behind her, as he followed her up the walk.

"Uh, yeah. He's a friend. I'm not sure if he's home or not, but he gave me a key." She tried the door, and just as she had expected, the door swung open at her touch. She held the door open so he could enter, slipping in behind him once he had maneuvered his wheelchair through the doorway and closing it behind her.

"He doesn't mind if you just walk in?" Charles asked, feeling a little odd about this plan.

"No. I come out here to visit him a lot. He's usually got really good advice when I need someone to talk to. Let me just check to see if he's home before we start," Buffy told him as she led the way into the main living area. The fireplace was cold, which wasn't unusual for Angel during the day. She ducked through the dark curtain to the right of the fireplace, back to where Angel had his bedroom.

Apparently, Angel had heard them entering, because he was sitting up and reaching for his dark shirt. He looked up alertly when she slipped into his room. "Buffy? What's going on?"

Buffy took a deep breath. "I went to see Dr. Xavier this morning," she told him, keeping her voice low. "You and Giles were right. He is a telepath, and that's why he came out here. He knew I was a telepath all along. He still wants me to come to his school in New York, but with Faith going over to the dark side…"

"You can't leave the Hellmouth unguarded," Angel finished.

Buffy nodded. "He's offered to give me some basic training to protect myself from overhearing people's thoughts. He said that the more isolated we were, the easier it would be in the early stages."

"Makes sense. Less chance that you'll be overwhelmed when you're trying to learn how to block people out," Angel said.

"I – I hate to intrude, Angel, but your mansion is the most isolated, and safest spot in Sunnydale…"

"It's fine, Buffy," Angel said quietly. "Take what time you need. I'm immune to everything that's going on, so you don't have to worry about projecting towards me, or overhearing my thoughts."

"We can work in the garden if you're going to be up," Buffy offered. "It's still the middle of the morning, so…"

"Whatever you want to do is fine with me, Buffy. If you want me to, I'll sit with you and watch. Maybe I can offer some advice. I mean, if you want me to."

Buffy bit her lip. While she would be glad to have Angel's support during this new training, she wasn't sure how to explain her relationship with him to Dr. Xavier, or how to explain why he was blank to a telepath. If he was as powerful a telepath as he claimed to be, he wouldn't be able to miss the fact that Angel had a very sophisticated shield in place – and couldn't even explain how or why.

"It sounds nice, Angel, but I think for now it would be best if we worked alone. I would love to have you there – but I need to keep some of this a secret as long as I can, and I don't even know what he might pick up from me, or how he expects this to work."

"I understand, Buffy." Angel smiled at her and rose to his feet, pulling her into a hug. He felt her lean up against him and he shifted slightly to take her weight. "Did you ask him about why he is so determined to bring you to his school?"

Buffy hesitated. "Not yet," she finally admitted. "I am going to, but like you said, I need to focus on one thing at a time. Right now my priority is getting this new power under control."

Angel kissed her hair. "Okay. Just let me know if I can help in anyway."

She smiled up at him and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. "Thanks, Angel." She broke her hug with him and headed back out of the room, to find the Professor looking around the main living area.

"Your friend is a collector of ancient artifacts?" he asked, indicating the various weapons and artwork that Angel had displayed around the room.

"Um, yeah. He likes old stuff." Buffy glanced around the room herself, before she returned her gaze to the Professor. "So, where should we start? Angel's here right now, but he said we could work in here, or in the garden without being disturbed."

"Wherever you would be more comfortable, Buffy. Most of the burden in this is going to fall on you. I can guide you, and teach you what you need to know, but the more relaxed you are, the easier it will be the first few times."

"Okay, then, I guess the garden will work. It'll definitely be quiet this time of day." After he nodded in agreement, she led the way across the living room to the heavy dark curtains in front of the French doors that Angel used to keep the daylight out.

As they stepped into the stone-walled garden, she took a deep breath, breathing in the lingering traces of the jasmine that climbed over the walls and trellises. Even though the blossoms only opened at night, there were enough of them, and the scent was strong enough to linger most of the day as well. Something about the delicate flowers and their scent allowed her to relax some of the tension as she took a seat on a stone bench that was positioned near the wall.

Charles could smell the sweet scent as well and felt himself relaxing as well. This – although it wasn't fully a part of his plan – was a good thing. It gave him a chance to connect with his daughter, to get to know her. Once he started to teach her, to earn her trust – which he had high hopes had already begun – he would be able to tell her the rest of the story, and then he could start figuring out what had happened to her.

Buffy sat on the bench facing him, with one leg tucked up underneath her as he positioned his wheelchair within reach of her. He closed his eyes for a moment, gently reaching out with his powers to study her shield. He had only examined it briefly, because there were certain signs that a hasty, cobbled-together shield showed that were different from a shield that had been erected properly.

As he had expected, instead of being smooth and even, and protecting all of his daughter's mind with the same level of strength, her shield pulsed oddly, maintained only because she had a strong will and a powerful desire to not hear anyone's thoughts. But at the places where the shield was weakest – those were the places where her connection to her friends and the people she thought of as her family were able to break through.

He opened his eyes to find Elizabeth watching him alertly. She offered him a little half-smile that was tinged with nervousness and anticipation. "What first?"

"We need to get rid of the shield that you're currently using, Buffy. It's poorly formed, and I can show you how to build a proper one, but only once you pull that one down. It will go against all your instincts as a developing telepath, especially if you've already experienced the tumult that comes from picking up on the thoughts of everyone around you."

Buffy nodded and took a deep breath. "Ok. How?"

"You have to consciously think about relaxing and stop trying to resist the sense that your mind is going to be invaded." Charles replied. He did another quick sweep of the area and didn't sense anyone in the immediate vicinity. Unless she was even more powerful already than he was – which he highly doubted – she shouldn't be able to sense anything from anyone. "Don't worry about your mind being assaulted. There's no one around."

Buffy nodded, although she knew that he was wrong – but for the point of what she was doing, it didn't matter, since she couldn't sense Angel anyway. She really hoped that this would work. She was tired of the tension headaches that had been a constant presence ever since her telepathy had manifested the second time.

She chewed on her lower lip for a moment, before she closed her eyes. Thinking about all of the meditative exercises that Giles had tried to teach her over the past three years, she managed to calm her thoughts and her breathing. She needed to try to ease her headache before she'd be able to focus on the actual act of lowering her shield.

Charles watched his daughter intensely as she slowly relaxed. He could see the tension going out of her body, and the furrows in her forehead that indicated her effort to block out the thoughts of others disappeared. Careful not to put any pressure on her, while keeping his own thoughts tightly walled up behind his own shield, he reached out with his powers again and monitored her progress.

To his surprise, whatever she was doing, it seemed to be steadying her shield. While still cobbled together and not strong enough to be an effective defense, the fact that she had managed such a thorough shield was surprising for an emerging telepath. She seemed to have a much stronger control of her thoughts and her new powers than he would have expected.

Observing someone else's mind through his telepathic powers was always a unique experience. It wasn't like "seeing" in the physical sense. It was more like a heightened sense of awareness that was as much instinctive as it was directed. Even the term "reading someone's mind" was misleading. Reading implied that you were seeing someone's words imprinted in their mind, but what he was really doing was simply listening with an "inner ear" and hearing the thoughts that a person was thinking most about.

True, if he chose, he could enter someone's mind and view their memories as if from a third-person omniscient sense, or if the memory was emotional enough, see and experience it as if he was that person, but that was something that he generally tried not to do. With as many years experience as he had with his telepathy, it hadn't taken him long to realize that using it in that was a very deep invasion of someone else's psyche. It was a wonderful resource for gathering information, but he had to be careful about how deeply he penetrated someone's mind.

Fortunately, when people were emotional enough about someone, they tended to project out from their thoughts. Usually, with a few well chosen words, he could trigger a person to think about what he wanted to know, and get them to "throw" the thoughts at him. Then it was simply a matter of listening for them. But again, it had it's ethical challenges – and that was something that he was going to have to try to impress upon his daughter. Telepathy was a very dangerous power, and one that was very easy to abuse.

Somehow, though, he had the sense that she was mature enough to know when and how to use it properly once she had it under control. He could teach her the basics now, enough to protect herself – since it could also be used as a highly sophisticated defense – and from there it would simply be a matter of her practicing what he taught her until it became habit.

A moment later, he "watched" her shield drop. She braced herself, as if expecting to hear a torrent of thoughts again, but when nothing happened, she relaxed again and opened her eyes, looking up at him.

"That's good, Buffy," he told her, assuring her that he was aware that she had done as he had asked. "Now, we have two options on how to proceed, and I'll let you decide which one makes you the most comfortable." When she nodded, he continued. "I can enter your mind and show you what kind of a shield you'll need to build to protect yourself, and create one for you. Then, when you're ready, I'll take it away and you can try. Or, I can just walk you through it step – by – step."

Buffy looked thoughtful. "Will I hear your thoughts if you show me? I mean, if we do the first choice?"

Charles shook his head. "No, Buffy. I've got excellent control over my thoughts, and I won't be dropping my shields enough to let you in. You won't hear anything that I don't want you to hear."

Buffy's expression turned uneasy for a moment. "Will you hear my thoughts?"

"I'll do my very best not to," Charles told her honestly, "but if you feel strongly about a particular thought or memory, I may not be able to avoid hearing it, since I'll have to be inside your mind to teach you."

The thought that he would accidentally learn her secret was almost enough to make Buffy call a halt to the whole plan, but after a moment she nodded. "All right." She would just have to try very hard not to think about Slaying or the Ascension.

"Close your eyes," Charles ordered her softly. "It will help you focus if you're not being distracted by what's going on around you." He waited until she obeyed before reaching out and touching her mind with his. He kept his shields up as much as he could to avoid projecting into her mind.

He found the part of her mind that was her consciousness and gently showed her how to erect a sturdy shield. Much like building a wall around her thoughts, it had to be done evenly and carefully. He kept the shield that he had put up for her in place for a time, letting her study the way that he had created the shield.

_**Do you see how you have to create it evenly, Buffy? **_he asked her. _**The telepathic shield is a blend of your power and your will. It is a natural, human instinct to want to protect our innermost thoughts and feelings. Telepathy just makes it easier to do so.**_

He waited, and a moment later, hesitantly, he heard her reply. _**That's a good thing. It is a good thing, right?**_

_**It is, but at the same time, it can be very dangerous, Buffy. Your power gives you the ability to hear the thoughts of other people, and when you learn more control over your gift, you can also manipulate what people are thinking. But that is a power that you have to be very careful about using, because you are taking away someone's free will when you do.**_

_**That would be bad…does my power give me a defense against that? I mean, against someone manipulating me?**_

_**Your shield does,**_ he explained. _**As long as you maintain it, and continually work on strengthening it, you should be much more difficult to control in that way. Now, I'm going to take the shield away, and I want you to try to copy what I did.**_

_**Ok.**_

Charles carefully removed the shield from her mind and watched as, a moment later, she slowly began building a fragile, spun shield. He watched her critically as it slowly formed, until her mind was encased inside the shield.

From the outside, it was easy to see where the weak points were. He nodded to himself. He would need to be a little more direct. He focused his power and directed a powerful telepathic blow at one of those weak points, and watched her shield shatter beneath the blow. He was careful to pull the blow so that he didn't do any damage to her.

Her eyes snapped open. "What was that?" she demanded.

He opened his eyes and looked at her. "Your shield was too weak. You did well in creating it, but you didn't make it strong enough. A powerful enough telepath would be able to do what I just did. I could see the weak points from outside your thoughts. The only difference is that a telepath bent on attacking you wouldn't pull the blow."

Buffy sighed. "So what do I do?"

"You need to focus on making the shield thicker, and make sure you build it up evenly. Even if you make them thick enough, if it's not even, it will give another telepath a place to attack."

Buffy closed her eyes again and let out a deep breath. "I'll try again." She rolled her shoulders to relax the tension that had built up when he attacked her.

*************************************************************

_Sunnydale High Library…_

Giles closed the book he was looking through slowly, before he reached up and removed his glasses to rub his eyes. He had been busy researching telepathy in the hopes of learning enough about it so that if Dr. Xavier couldn't help Buffy, perhaps he could give her enough guidance.

His Slayer was a natural telepath. He never would have believed that it was possible. It was unheard of, in the tens of thousands of years that the Slayer had existed, there was no evidence anywhere that any of the other Slayers who had come before Buffy had been telepathic.

The Watcher's Council were trained to shield their minds from telepaths and psychics, but the training wasn't very detailed. It mostly consisted of some meditation, and an awareness of one's own thoughts. Giles would be the first to admit that the exercises were not very logical, and he had no doubt that if it ever came to a point where a telepath would look into his mind he would have no way to stop them.

"Well, unfortunately, there's nothing in here about the ascension," Wesley said as he came down from the upper level closing yet another book. "The Council is researching it, but there simply may not be enough time to figure this out."

"We need to keep working. We can't expect Buffy to go into this blind." Giles placed his glasses back on his face and reached for another book. As much as he wanted to continue researching Buffy's telepathy, the ascension was the more important matter. He knew Buffy had planned to go to talk to Dr. Xavier again this morning and find out if he could help her learn to control her powers.

Right now he could help her best by figuring out what the ascension was about and how she could stop it.

He had hurt her enough with the Cruciamentum. Even though they had united again when Wesley had shown up, and even though they were learning to work with him, the trust had been badly damaged. He wasn't going to send her into a situation where he would have to watch her die.

*************************************************************

_Angel's Mansion…_

"That's much better, Buffy," Charles told her as she successfully repelled another mental attack. It had taken several hours of concentrated work but she had a fairly strong shield in place. Of course, it would only get stronger the more she practiced and worked at it.

And he wasn't about to tell her that he was attacking her with only a fraction of his strength. If he attacked at full strength, she'd have no hope of stopping him, or even slowing him down. But by making attacks that were just at her level to defend, each time she successfully held him off, it increased her confidence in her shield, which only made it stronger.

"You'll need to keep working at it. Shielding is something that can't simply be used or discarded on a whim – not for a telepath. A non-telepath might have that luxury, but you won't. It's too easy to become overwhelmed by someone else's thoughts if you don't make an effort at constantly maintaining your shield," he continued.

Buffy flashed back on something that Wesley had said when the demon telepathy had first shown up. "It's a mental discipline?"

Charles nodded approvingly. "Exactly, and just like anything else, you'll only get better the longer and harder you practice. Whenever something happens that reminds you of your gift, you need to do the internal check that I taught you to make sure your shield is still strong. After a while, maintaining it will be a habit and you won't have to think about it."

Buffy let out a relieved breath and allowed the hints of tension that had built up during the repeated and random attacks on her shield to ebb away. Dr. Xavier was pleased with her shield, and she'd been able to keep him out of her mind repeatedly, even though it had taken her several hours before she figured out what he wanted from her. At least now she could walk down the street and not worry about feeling like everyone was trying to break into her mind.

"What next?" she asked, looking up at the sun. It was almost lunchtime, and she knew she should probably check in with Giles and tell him that she had at least this much control over her powers. And she knew she'd need to tell Wesley – although if he moved to tell the Council, she'd have to kick his ass. She did _not_ want them coming down on her for being the first mutant Slayer.

Charles looked thoughtful. "We should probably give your powers a rest. Like any other muscle, too much use too quickly can cause a great deal of strain and pain. These powers are your mind's new muscle, and you're learning to develop it in a new way."

"Should we meet back here this afternoon?" Buffy asked. "I know you won't be in town for very long – you have your school and all."

He wanted to tell her that he would be staying as long as it took to convince her of their relationship, but given that he hadn't even told her what that relationship was, he had a feeling that wouldn't go over well. "That would be fine with me, Buffy, as long as you don't feel too tired."

Buffy smiled. "Nah, I'm ok. But I should go home for lunch and take care of a couple of errands before we do some more training."

Charles nodded and waited while his daughter rose to her feet and stretched slowly before heading back into the mansion. She opened the door and the curtains carefully, before slipping inside. "Angel? We're coming in."

Charles didn't hear the response, but after a moment she reappeared and held the curtains back for him. As he entered the room, he spotted a tall, dark-haired man in his early twenties standing near the fireplace, out of the path of the light.

He came into the room far enough so that his daughter could let go of the curtains, before he moved over to where the man was standing. "Hello. I'm Dr. Charles Xavier."

"Angel." The other man took Charles' proffered hand, and shook it before letting go. "I'm glad that you're helping Buffy."

"You're one of her friends that knows about her gifts?" Charles asked, studying the other man. Maybe it was just the interior lights, but Angel looked a little bit pale, and there was something else odd about him, but Charles couldn't figure out what it was.

"Oh. Uh, yeah," Buffy said. "Angel and I are dating."

It took all his effort to remain impassive at that as he sized up his daughter's boyfriend. On the surface, Angel seemed like a nice guy. He was apparently wealthy enough that he could take care of Elizabeth, given the size of his house and the ancient artifacts that were displayed everywhere.

What was it about this young man that bothered him so much? Was it just the fact that his daughter was dating? Did he simply have an uneasy feeling because he couldn't give an overt approval or disapproval? Was he really that petty?

_Lizzie, I wish you were here. How am I supposed to handle this?_ he thought to himself. "Well, I'm pleased to meet you, Angel. Thank you for being so kind as to let us use your garden today. The quiet and the privacy were just what we needed."

Angel smiled, but it seemed tinged with discomfort. "I know. I like having a lot of space. I'm home a lot, and a smaller house would feel stifling after a while."

"Um, we should probably go. My mom is probably wondering where I am," Buffy inserted. "Do you want me to walk back to your hotel with you, Professor?"

"Is it safe enough for me to make it back on my own?" he asked, still curious about her allusions to the dangers on the streets at night.

"During the day, yeah," she replied. "You really just have to be careful at night."

"Will you be coming back later?" Angel looked between them.

"I think so," Buffy told him. "I'm sure the Professor has to leave tomorrow night or Monday morning, and I still have school, so we need to get as much of this done as we can before Monday."

"That's fine," Angel told her, laying a hand on her shoulder. "I'll leave the door unlocked for you."

Buffy turned to face him and leaned up to kiss him. He returned her kiss gently, and broke it after a moment, leaving both of them with warm smiles on their faces. "See you later, Angel." She turned to face Charles. "Come on, Professor, I'll walk you back to the hotel. There's a short cut to my house from there."

*************************************************************

_Ramada Inn…half hour later…_

"So should I meet you back here in a couple of hours, Professor?" Buffy asked as they stopped outside the hotel.

"That would be fine, Buffy," he said. "We'll continue with your training after that. Depending on how tired you feel, we'll work a little more on your shield, and then I'll try to show you a few other protections that telepaths can use."

"Sounds great," Buffy said. She turned and started to walk away, but then she hesitated. _Ask him! Ask him about what you overheard last night!_ She had sort of been hoping that he would let something slip during their training, but thus far he hadn't.

"Professor?" she asked, turning around abruptly. "Can I…can I ask you something?"

He turned back around and nodded seriously. "Of course, Buffy."

"Last night, I heard you say something about…" she bit her lip again, before she just blurted it out. "About how you knew I was a telepath."

For a moment, he didn't answer her, but when he finally spoke, his words were not what she had expected. "Yes, Buffy, I knew you were a telepath. I knew…because I have reason to believe that you are my daughter."

Buffy stared at him, her mouth dropping open. "What?!"


	19. Chapter 18: Restoring the Bond

**Author's Note: Hey everyone, here's another update for you, along with an explanation. I'm so grateful to all the people who said that they liked the revisions that I made to a few chapters the last time I posted. I was really reluctant to make those changes, but as I was working on the chapter, I just could not figure out a feasible way for Buffy or Professor X to broach the topic of their relationship - and I didn't want to drag it out forever. Thank you so much for indulging my crazy changes, and I hope you lilke this chapter enough to review it!**

_**Chapter Eighteen: Restoring the Bond**_

"_What greater thing is there for human souls than to feel that they are joined for life - to be with each other in silent unspeakable memories?"__  
__-George Eliot_

"Buffy, I know you have no reason to believe me, and I don't have any real proof. I didn't want to tell you like this," Charles tried to explain, keeping his voice calm with an effort.

"There's no…it's not possible," Buffy managed after a moment. "I _remember_ being a little kid with my mom and my dad."

"Buffy…Elizabeth…"

"How do you know my name?" Buffy demanded, taking several steps backward and falling into a defensive stance.

"I gave it to you, Elizabeth," Charles said softly. "Please, let me explain my reasons."

Buffy looked even more wary and for a moment, Charles thought that she was going to bolt. "You're crazy. Leave me alone."

"Elizabeth, please let me explain, tell you why I believe that you're my daughter before you walk away," Charles pleaded with her. "I won't force you; whatever you decide, I'll accept. I'll respect your choice, just give me a chance."

Buffy didn't relax, but finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she nodded in agreement. The professor had helped her after all. The least she could do to repay him was to hear him out. "Fine, start explaining."

"May we go somewhere a little more private?" Charles requested, not particularly wanting to discuss this topic in public. It was much to personal to try to explain in the middle of a hotel parking lot.

Buffy hesitated, but then nodded. Her mom would be at the gallery all day, and it wasn't like he could overpower her and kidnap her. "We'll go to my house," she said tersely, tuning and leading the way.

Charles followed her without saying a word. His heart was racing as he tried to compose himself. He was with his daughter, and because of his rash decision to fly out here, and then his inability to control his desire to tell her the truth, he now had to try to convince her of that fact with no proof. All the pictures he had of Lizzie at age eighteen were back in Bayville. All he had was his word and the fact that she was telepathic because he was. _Will that be enough to convince her?_ he wondered as they turned onto Revello Drive.

Buffy unlocked the front door, before helping push his wheelchair up the front steps onto the porch so he could enter the house. She pointed him wordlessly towards the living room while she dropped her purse on the stairs and closed and locked the door behind her. No point in tempting fate after all – even though vampires couldn't walk about by day, most species of demons could – and she didn't need to be fighting off a demon seeking to claim the head of the Slayer while she was dealing with the delusions of a lunatic.

Charles waited quietly in the living room until she entered, standing between him and the French doors that led into the room. Her face was impassive but everything about her stance told him that she was defensive and it would take a great deal of convincing to make her yield.

"So talk."

Where to start? He took a deep breath and decided to just start at the beginning. "My first year in college, I met a beautiful young woman named Elizabeth Anna. She was petite, blonde, with green eyes." His eyes softened as he gazed at her. "You look just like she did, Eliz – Buffy. When I look at you, I would swear I was looking at her." He seemed lost in thought for a moment. "I was a biology major and she was a pre-med student. We started dating right away, and I asked her to marry me at the end of our second year."

Charles paused, praying for the words that would convince his daughter, that his words would be enough. "We didn't marry right away. We both wanted to finish our schooling, so we waited. It was almost ten years before we married. Three months later, I was in an accident that left me crippled and in the hospital for another three months. Not long after I was released, Lizzie told me that she was expecting a baby."

"Get to the point, Professor," Buffy said impatiently. She wasn't unsympathetic to what he was saying, but she didn't see how this involved her or was proof of his claims.

Charles cleared his throat awkwardly, fumbling for the right words. His usual poise and confidence was deserting him. Despite how many times he had told this story recently, it wasn't getting any easier. But all he could do was press on and hope that something would touch a spark in her.

"When Lizzie was seven months pregnant, she went into premature labor. Our daughter was born, weak but healthy, but my wife – Lizzie – died during the delivery." He closed his eyes and forced back the tears as he remembered that horrible night.

_Charles gazed down at the incubator that held his tiny, precious daughter. She had been cleaned up, but she still looked so fragile and small. He closed his eyes as he thought about what bringing her into the world had cost._

_He looked up at Susan, who was standing beside him, her hands resting lightly, comfortingly on his shoulders. "She's going to be all right, isn't she?"_

"_We won't know for a few days, Charles. Tomorrow we'll run some tests, and then we'll know for sure what her chances are. At the moment, she seems to be stable, but someone will be monitoring her around the clock."_

_He nodded slowly, understanding as his gaze returned to his daughter. "Susan…is Lizzie…?"_

"_They've taken her down to the morgue, Charles. They'll perform an autopsy, to find out what caused her to start bleeding internally. We should have the results in a few days. I think the coroner was going to do the autopsy in the morning."_

"_May I see her? One last time, I mean?" he asked, unsuccessfully trying to repress the tremble in his voice. His beautiful wife…they'd just had their one-year anniversary. Why had they waited? They could have already been celebrating their tenth anniversary, they might have had several children by now…_

_Regret hammered at him. He had loved her so much…why had they waited? Their schooling hadn't been __**that**__ important. He had more than enough money from his parents to easily support a family without a career – but nothing would have stopped them from getting married and continuing their schooling._

"_Are you sure, Charles?" Susan's voice was concerned. "There is still the funeral…"_

"_I need to see her, Susan. I need to know that it's real."_

_Susan sighed. "All right. Come with me." She turned and headed down the hallway towards the elevator, and Charles sent his chair silently after her, trying to mentally brace himself for what he was going to see._

_They descended in silence, although Susan kept shooting concerned glances his way. The morgue was in the basement, along with the hospital labs and the bulk storage rooms. Susan led the way to the swinging doors that led into the morgue and held the doors open for him._

_Charles barely paid any attention to his friend as she spoke quietly with the attendant. He nodded after a moment and led the way over to the wall of storage compartments. He pulled open a door on the lower row, before he pulled the drawer out._

_A small figure lay on the metal table, a sheet shrouding it completely from view. Charles felt his heart racing as he stared at the sheeted form. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, trying to steady his nerves._

"_Charles, are you sure you want to do this?" Susan asked. "It may be better if you just wait until the funeral. She won't look…"_

"_I need to do this, Susan. I need to understand."_

_Susan sighed and nodded to the attendant. The man stepped up to the head of the body and gently folded down the head of the sheet before standing aside and allowing Charles access to the side of the drawer._

_He moved his wheelchair as close as he could get, as he gazed down at the face of his wife. Her normally shining blonde hair appeared limp and lank. Her wide, sparkling green eyes were closed, and her skin was pale._

"_Lizzie…" Charles reached up and gently ran his hand through her hair. His fingers tangled in strands, and he carefully detangled his hand before smoothing her hair back into place. He moved his hand from her hair to her face, resting his palm against her cheek as his thumb brushed lightly across her cheekbone. He repressed a shiver at the coldness of her skin._

_He reached up and slipped his free hand under the sheet, finding her left hand and holding it in his, while his fingers brushed against the diamond and pearl engagement band and simple gold ring that she wore around her ring finger. He remembered putting the diamond ring around her finger eleven and a half years ago on the day he had been awarded his Bachelor's degree from New York University. He remembered how beautiful she had looked just over a year ago when they stood up in front of the justice of the peace and exchanged their vows – remembered the weight of the solid gold band he wore around his finger being slipped onto his hand._

"_I'm so sorry, Lizzie. There's so much that we could have done differently, so much that I wish I could change. I should have married you years ago," he whispered. "I…I regret so much…but I will never regret loving you, sweet one." He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it gently. "I'm so sorry…"_

_Carefully lowering her hand back to her side, he covered it with the sheet, before he buried his face in his hands and sobbed. Seconds later he felt Susan's warm hands holding his shoulders, gently pulling at him._

"_Charles, come with me. Let's go and see your daughter," she whispered gently, before her hand dropped to the arm of his chair and he felt her pressing on the control stick lightly, backing him away from the table. "There's nothing more that you can do here."_

_He barely reacted as she carefully steered his chair out of the room, but from behind them, the morgue attendant slid the drawer back into the cabinet with a metallic crash, before swinging the door shut with a final, deafening clang. Charles stiffened, his shoulders tight with tension at the thought that it was the last time he would see his wife. "This is a nightmare…" he whispered. "Susan, please tell me I'm dreaming…"_

"_I'm afraid not, Charles. This is all too real."_

"I brought my daughter – you – home two months later. Three months after that, someone entered the house in the middle of the night and took you right out of your cradle and out the window. You vanished without a trace. The FBI, the local police, a private detective…no one ever found out what had happened that night. It's only because of your telepathy that I was able to locate you." He looked at her, sincere emotion shining in his eyes. "Elizabeth, you are a telepath because _I_ am a telepath. Just like you inherited Lizzie's – your mother's – looks, you inherited my powers."

Buffy maintained a stoic face, although she did feel for this man. It was apparent that he had lost a great deal in his life and was grasping at straws. "I'm sorry for your loss, Professor, but I remember being in L.A. as a small child, with my mom and dad."

"You were taken when you were five months old, Elizabeth, and developmentally you were only three months, if that. I'm not doubting that you have those memories of being a small child, but that doesn't say anything about the earliest months of your life. Most people can't remember much before their third or fourth birthday. By then you could easily have been placed in your home in Los Angeles."

"What proof do you have?" Buffy demanded, maintaining her calm with an effort. As much as she hated to admit it, the Professor was right. Her memories weren't strong enough evidence to counter his claim.

"Not much," Charles admitted. "The strongest evidence would be a DNA test for paternity, from an unbiased lab. If you would agree to a test, I would gladly pay for it."

"I'm not convinced," Buffy told him firmly.

Charles' mind raced as he tried to think of something that would convince her to consent to a paternity test. "I could show you my memories of Lizzie," he finally offered. "You would be able to see how much you resemble her."

It was the only thing he had left to offer her as proof. He held his breath waiting to see if she would agree.

Buffy hesitated. She knew that she really shouldn't do anything that would play into his insanity. If he believed his story as fervently as he seemed to, encouraging him would only do more damage in the long run.

But at the same time, she was curious about just how deep his conviction went. There had to be something about her that – in his mind at least – fueled his certainty that she was his daughter. Given that he seemed to be a grounded and reasonable man, despite his losses, she didn't take him to be the type of person who leaped to conclusions blindly.

After several seconds of furious debate with herself, she made up her mind. "All right." She swallowed uneasily. "What do I need to do?"

*******************************************************************

_Angel's Mansion…_

Angel paced his living room, deep in thought. He wasn't usually inclined to pace – stillness and sulking in the shadows being more to his nature – but anything that involved Buffy filled him with a restless energy that demanded he burn off. Since it was noon, he was confined inside for the time being, so pacing was as good as anything to burn off some of that energy.

He had watched covertly from a window on the eastern side of the garden while Dr. Xavier and Buffy worked on controlling her new telepathy. Although there hadn't been much to see other than the two of them sitting across from each other, he had noticed a soft, almost loving expression cross the Professor's face from time to time as he looked at Buffy.

Angel didn't know why, but something about the visitor was unnerving him. It wasn't the fact that the man was a telepath, because telepaths had no influence on him whatsoever. He needed to find out more about the man.

Making a decision, he moved to the phone in the corner. He had had the line installed after he'd regained his senses when he'd come back from hell. He'd wanted Buffy and Giles to have a way to contact him if they needed his help with anything – and it had paid off, because Giles had been able to call him and let him know that they needed the second demon's heart in order to cure Buffy's "aspect of the demon" telepathy.

He considered his options for a moment, before he picked up the receiver and dialed a number. It rang twice before the line connected. "Sunnydale High School, this is Mr. Giles," the cultured voice stated crisply.

"Giles, it's Angel. Are Willow or Oz there?"

"Yes she is, just a minute," Angel heard muffled sounds as Giles covered the mouthpiece with his hand, before a sweet, cheerful voice answered.

"Angel?"

"Willow," the vampire replied, allowing a smile to color his tone. "Are you busy?"

"We're just doing some research into the Ascension. Giles had another idea about where to look, and I think he might be on to something. Although, I have to say, pretty icky stuff we're checking – and why does everything have to be blood and gore with demons anyway? You'd thing that if – "

"Willow, breathe," Angel ordered her gently, the same way he'd seen Buffy do numerous times over the last three years. "I need your help with something. Could you come to the mansion and bring your laptop?"

"Oh, um, sure Angel. I can be there in half an hour or so. Oz is in L.A. for a gig or I'd ask him to drive me. It'll take me longer on foot."

"That's fine, Willow. I'll see you soon." Angel hung up the phone and unplugged it so that Willow would be able to plug in her laptop and use her dial-up modem to get on the internet.

He needed to know more. There was too much going on for Buffy to handle alone and he couldn't protect her without information.

*******************************************************************

_Buffy's house…_

"You need to allow me into your mind," Charles told her. "I haven't shown you how to link your thoughts to mine, but I am powerful enough as a telepath that I can slip past your shields so that my thoughts are all you see."

"You can? I won't have to lower my shields?" she asked, her tone laced with suspicion.

"What I taught you was the most basic of techniques to guard your mind," Charles explained. "They're good, solid shields, and they should be easily strong enough to protect you from the people you are most likely to encounter. There are more advanced techniques, but they are much too complicated for a true beginner."

"But you can get past my shields?" Buffy asked again.

"Easily. It is another very advanced technique. Anyone attempting to penetrate your mind will tend to take the more aggressive approach I demonstrated earlier. The strain of maintaining your shields under that type of assault can bring a lot of pleasure to someone with that inclination." He looked at her openly. "You have nothing to fear from me, Elizabeth. All you will see is my memories of Lizzie – your mother."

After several moments of silence, Buffy nodded. "Okay. What do you need me to do?"

"Just relax," he said quietly. Although he didn't really need to do so, he reached out and placed his hands on either side of her head, about six inches away from her skin. He noted the way she watched him, alertly, but she didn't tense up or make any move to pull away.

Buffy wasn't sure what to expect from this little experiment of Dr. Xavier's but before she could blink she found that her mind was filled with images of a lovely blonde woman who looked almost exactly like her. The only difference was in the way they were dressed. Buffy "watched" as image after image passed through her mind. The young woman – Lizzie, she supposed – was studying a from a pile of thick textbooks, walking down the streets of a bustling metropolis with a younger Dr. Xavier and a second woman who had brown hair and dark brown eyes, laughing over a romantic candlelight dinner, and looking shocked and surprised as she looked at a velvet box that held a golden ring with diamonds and pearls studding it.

Buffy couldn't deny the similarity of features that she had to this woman. The resemblance was almost uncanny. Buffy knew that she looked a lot like her mother – Joyce – who also had blonde hair and green eyes, but where Buffy's hair was a lighter, sun-kissed blonde, Joyce Summers had more of a brownish tint to her hair, and a lighter shade of green in her eyes. This woman – the Professor's wife – could almost be Buffy's twin.

It was no wonder that the Professor was convinced that Buffy was his daughter – and looking at his memories of this woman…it was almost enough to convince her of the same.

The images started to recede from her mind, seeming to fade from her inner eye, when she suddenly felt a jolt of powerful emotion – loss, longing, love, hope, fear – but none of the emotions were hers.

There was almost a jerking sensation, and Dr. Xavier's hands dropped away from her head – but the emotions didn't fade. She stared at him, blinking in surprise as she tried to deal with the rush of emotion that she could somehow tell was coming from him. "What in the…"

Charles was equally shocked. Of everything he had expected, _that_ was not one of them. It only took him a moment to realize that he was still linked to his daughter – but he had withdrawn completely from her mind.

She looked at him angrily, and he thought he saw a flash of fear before she suppressed it. "What's going on? Get out of my head!"

"I'm not, Elizabeth. I've pulled back," he told her.

"Why can I still sense you?" she asked, taking several quick steps back, as if she thought that the distance would break the connection.

Charles thought fast. Why were they still linked? He was skilled enough to be able to show someone his memories without linking to them in this fashion. It only took him a moment before he realized what it had to be. "It's our bond," he breathed, as the familiar sensation of his daughter's presence, like a quiet whisper in the back of his mind, washed over him. He hadn't felt it in eighteen years – he'd thought that the bond had been eroded by time and distance.

"What bond?"

Charles looked up at her. There was no way she could deny it any longer. "When you were just a baby, Elizabeth, we had a telepathic connection. It's been quiet for eighteen years, and I thought that it was dead…but it's come back."


	20. Chapter 19: Finding a Way

**Author's Note: Okay, just a couple of quickies tonight...first, the phone number that I gave for the hot line about the kidnapping is bogus...I just typed in a bunch of numbers. At least, I don't think it's a real number...if it is, my apologies. Second, I made up the name of the lab that Charles asks for, although there are labs all across the country that perform paternity tests - and yes, undoubtedly Prof. X has the equipment to do the test himself, but I wanted to make it clear from the beginning that this is going to be strictly legal, with no chance for a biased result, hence, the independant lab.**

Oh, and the last thing...I know that in canon X-Men, Prof. X studied at Columbia University and Oxford, but for the purposes of this story, I wanted to keep him state-side and located in New York for the romance with Lizzie aspect, and also for the proximity to Bayville. So pretend that - although he could easily have studied those two places, for the purposes of this story he did not.

I think that's all the big things...so on with the story!

_**Chapter Nineteen: Finding a Way**_

"_Curse on all laws but those which love has made!_

_Love, free as air at sight of human ties,_

_Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies."_

_Eloisa to Abelard. Line 74__. - Alexander Pope_

Buffy stared at Charles angrily, her green eyes flashing sharply. "What the hell do you mean? What did you do to me?"

Charles felt his own, rarely unleashed, temper rising and forced it back with an effort. Why was his daughter being so _difficult_? "I did nothing, Elizabeth. These types of bonds cannot be forced. They form naturally."

"So you say," she shot back.

"Elizabeth, in over thirty years I've linked with exactly two people in this fashion – my wife and my daughter. My wife is dead and our bond broke when she died. The bond I have with you has been quiet and – I thought – broken since you were taken from me. Your own powers have reawakened it."

"Break it," she demanded.

Charles visibly recoiled in horror at the thought. _Break the bond with you?_ he thought, shuddering. When his bond with Lizzie had been broken at her death, the bleak emptiness that had been left in his mind had tormented him for years. The only thing that had allowed him to cope with the loss was caring for his daughter, and the fledgling bond he had developed with her. When she had been taken from him and their bond had gone quiet – that had been part of the reason that he had become a recluse while he tried to deal with both the emotional loss and the telepathic one.

"I don't know how to break them, Elizabeth. Short of one of us dying, I don't believe it is possible. Our powers link and fuel the bond," he told her, keeping his voice calm and his face open and honest.

Buffy's lips tightened before she turned and stormed into the kitchen. She was more than freaked out at the idea that she was linked to this crazy man. Giles was still looking into her telepathy, so maybe he would know a way to force the Professor to break the link that he had obviously established and now refused to break. Even if there wasn't a telepathic way to do it, maybe there would be a magical way to do so. She could always resort to force if she had to, but no matter how crazy the man was, she was reluctant to inflict harm on a cripple.

She grabbed the wall phone and dialed a number. It rang twice before she heard Giles answer. He barely finished saying his name before she spoke. "Giles, I've got a problem."

She sensed his alertness over the phone, even before he answered. "Apocalyptic?" She could picture him removing his glasses to polish them.

"Could be, in a personal way," she replied. "We're on our way. Clear away the supplies, we'll be there in fifteen minutes."

Buffy hung up before her Watcher – _former _Watcher, she reminded herself – could reply. Turning around, she headed back into the living room, grabbing her purse and her jacket off of the banister where she'd tossed them when she came in a few minutes ago.

"Come with me, Professor," she ordered, stalking over to the front door and opening it.

"Where are we going?" he asked, mildly, as he began maneuvering towards her.

"To a friend," she said shortly.

*******************************************************************

_Angel's Mansion…_

Willow slipped uneasily past the heavy curtains that hung in front of the French doors. She hadn't been around Angel for any real length of time since before Buffy's birthday the previous year – before he had become Angelus. Even though Buffy swore that the curse had worked, that Angel had his soul again and that they wouldn't do anything that would give him a moment of happiness again, Willow was still nervous around the vampire.

Angel was sitting on the stone ledge that ran in front of the fireplace. He looked up as she entered and smiled, which eased some of Willow's fears, since he looked genuinely pleased to see her, and not in a sadistic or evil way. She remembered all too well that night in the high school, when Angel had first lost his soul and nearly killed her – would have if not for Buffy and Xander.

"H – hi Angel." Willow returned his smile cautiously, not moving any closer to the vampire.

"Willow, thanks for coming," Angel told her as he rose to his feet and started to move closer.

Willow flinched and tensed, and Angel stopped in his tracks, a puzzled frown on his face for a moment before he seemed to understand. "Don't worry, Willow. I'm not going to hurt you. I need your help." He moved over to the couch and held up the phone cord. "I need you to investigate someone for me."

"Like I did with Ford?" she asked, relaxing a little and moving towards him.

"Yeah. But this guy should be easier."

Willow nodded and sat down on the couch, hooking her laptop up and opening a browser window. "Who are we looking up?"

"Dr. Charles Xavier."

She looked up at him, puzzled. "The guy who came to recruit Buffy to his school in New York?"

Angel nodded. "He was here earlier, helping Buffy."

"Helping her how?"

Angel looked at her, surprised that she didn't know. "He's a telepath, and he was helping Buffy learn to control her powers."

"But Buffy's came from that demon. Giles and Wesley are looking into why the potion didn't work," Willow protested.

Angel shook his head. "No, Willow. Buffy, Giles, and I figured out last night that Buffy is a natural telepath. Her power was blocked until the demon unlocked it – if she hadn't encountered the demon, her powers might never have awakened. But now that her mind has been awakened to her psychic powers, there's no getting rid of her power. She has to learn to control is, and he was here teaching her."

Willow opened her mouth to say something, but thought better of it and turned back to her computer. She opened a browser window and typed the name into Google. Better to start with the basics before she tried to hack into any secured databases – not that she expected to find anything on the guy. She'd never heard of him after all, and even in Sunnydale, people of any notable importance got a passing reference in the town newspaper or on the news.

Several links popped up and she clicked on the first, which took her to a publishing company's website. She skimmed the information, feeling Angel hovering over her shoulder. "Dr. Charles Xavier is the only child of Dr. Brian Xavier and Sharon Xavier. He has a Bachelor's degree in Biology, two Master's degrees in Biophysics and Genetics, a PH.D in Genetics, and a second PH.D in education, all of which were awarded through New York University." She continued reading the brief biography. "He's written several papers and textbooks on genetics, biophysics, and biology, and was formerly a tenured professor at New York University, even though he hasn't taught for almost twenty years. He lives in Bayville, New York, on his family's estate."

She bookmarked the blurb and selected the next link that popped up, which proved to be from a gossip column, and although she didn't put much stock in those types of articles, she scanned it anyway. "This might be somewhat unreliable, but according to this writer, the professor is somewhat of a recluse, and hasn't been seen in public in over ten years."

Angel frowned. "A teacher who doesn't teach? That's odd."

Willow nodded in agreement before going back to the first link. "He's apparently pretty well-known in academic circles, even though I've never heard of him. The articles and books he's written have widely been accepted as some of the best work in his fields that has been done in years, and if that's true, the man is either inordinately good at what he does, or he's a certified genius. I can keep digging and I might be able to find some information about his IQ."

"Anything else?" Angel asked. "Nothing you've found so far explains the odd feelings I had earlier."

Willow continued to scan the list of links that had popped up, bypassing several that seemed to be about his scientific research, until she came to an old link from the _New York Times_. She clicked on it, and it proved to be a link to the paper's archives – specifically their society page. **"XAVIER HEIR MARRIES AFTER LONG ENGAGEMENT!"**

She scanned the brief article. "In…1980, he married a young doctor named Elizabeth Anna Michaels, after being engaged to her for ten years. There's not much here, it mostly just mentions the date and place of the wedding."

She scrolled to the bottom of the article, but didn't see anything else. Pausing for a moment, she considered her options, before scrolling over the search bar for the _Times_ archives and typed in the professor's name again.

"What are you doing?" Angel asked, curiously.

"This article is from the society page of the _Times_, and it specifically mentions him as an 'heir', which tells me he's probably from the upper class, possibly even really old money," she explained. "Odds are, if his marriage was announced in the _Times_, there'll be more articles about him in their archives. That kind of society is always in the paper."

Angel nodded. "Makes sense. Even in my time, the professional beauties and the high society was the main focus of the newspapers, especially when there were scandals involved."

Her computer beeped after a moment, and she turned to see a new list of articles just from the _Times_ popping up. She clicked on the first one in the list, which was dated November 20, 1981.

"**TRAGEDY STRIKES XAVIER FAMILY!"** the headline screamed, while the smaller subheading proclaimed, "XAVIER WIFE DIES GIVING BIRTH TO DAUGHTER! DOCTORS UNSURE IF CHILD WILL LIVE!"

Willow stared at the article in dismay. "The poor man…" her words trailed off as she clicked the next link, dated in April of the same year.

"**XAVIER DAUGHTER MISSING! ****INFANT CHILD ABDUCTED IN THE NIGHT!**"

Willow quickly began reading the article. "Bayville, NY – Last night, at the family estate of one of the oldest families in Bayville, an unknown intruder entered and abducted five month old Elizabeth Anne, the only child of Dr. Charles Xavier and heir to the Xavier family fortune."

"Dr. Xavier is the son of respected nuclear physicist and philanthropist Dr. Brian Xavier, who was killed in a laboratory explosion twenty years ago. He is a well-known, highly respected professor of genetics, biophysics, and biology at New York University, where he holds a tenured position and has for the past eight years. He is a widower, his wife Elizabeth, a doctor of pediatric medicine in Bayville, having died five months ago in childbirth."

Angel huffed slightly, an odd sound coming from him because of his lack of breath. "That's ironic enough – a pediatrician dying in childbirth."

Willow shook her head and continued reading. "The police and FBI have not released many details about the case, but the infant is described as having blonde hair and green eyes, as well as being small for her age due to being premature. Special Agent Fred Duncan is the lead agent on the case, and he encourages anyone with any knowledge of the case to contact the police or the FBI at 1-800-555-6555."

Willow thought about the gossip column that she had found. "I wonder…that gossip column said that the professor had been a recluse for over ten years. It doesn't surprise me after losing his wife and daughter both in such a short span of time."

Angel looked equally thoughtful. "Was the baby ever found?"

Willow turned back to the list of _Times_ articles and selected the next one.

"**XAVIER DAUGHTER STILL MISSING! ****NO NEWS ON HER WHERABOUTS!**"

And the next.

"**SEARCH CONTINUES FOR MISSING CHILD."**

"**NO SIGN OF XAVIER INFANT AFTER THREE DAYS! ****INVESTIGATORS GRIM.**"

"**SEARCH CALLED OFF FOR MISSING BABY. ****AUTHORITIES BELIEVE CHILD DEAD**."

It was the next article that arrested their attention. "**DR. XAVIER ARRESTED IN CONNECTION WITH DAUGHTER'S KIDNAPPING!"** The smaller sub-heading read, "FBI SUSPICIOUS DUE TO LACK OF RANSOM!"

Willow scanned that article quickly. "The professor was arrested about a week after his daughter disappeared. Apparently, his fingerprints were the only ones found in his daughter's room, the alarm on her window had been turned off – according to the monitoring company for his security system, there was never a ransom demand made, and there were apparently other suspicious deaths in his family – his mother and his stepfather."

Angel's expression had turned grim. "We need to know more, Willow. I don't like the interest he's showing in Buffy."

Willow nodded and bent back to her task.

*******************************************************************

_Sunnydale High Library…_

Giles removed his glasses and reached for his handkerchief to polish them. His face was thoughtful and troubled as he regarded the two of them.

Buffy watched him, waiting for his opinion. She had told Giles everything that had happened that morning, from her meeting with the Professor to ask for his help, right up through their unexpected bonding.

"Good Lord," her former Watcher was saying quietly. He was intelligent, and it didn't take him more than a few moments to realize how dangerous a bond like the one she apparently had could be for the Slayer.

"Well, Giles?" she asked bluntly. She needed an answer and he was the only one who could give it to her. She was grateful that he had understood her message on the phone and had cleared out the rest of the group. He had asked Wesley to check in with the Council – which would require a trans-Atlantic telephone call and would take quite a while, and he had sent Xander to stretch his legs and get some snacks, telling him to take his time, since they had been particularly unsuccessful so far.

"Buffy, I'm afraid I don't know much about the kind of bond you're describing," Giles admitted. "I could do some research of course, but I suspect that I won't find anything. As far as the bond goes, we may need to trust to Dr. Xavier's expertise."

"What about the other thing?" she asked, a little desperately. Surely there must be something in all of the spell books that would talk about mystical and unwanted bonds and how to break them. This couldn't be the first time it had ever happened.

Charles looked from his daughter to her mentor. There was a subtext of communication between them - as if they were reading each others' minds. But he knew they weren't, since he hadn't taught Elizabeth how to project her thoughts to other people yet. There was more going on here than a student and a favored teacher.

He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. He didn't _think_ that there was anything going on that shouldn't be, but if there was…

Well, just because he was confined to a wheelchair didn't mean that he couldn't do something about the situation – even if it wasn't a physical reaction. His mind was a very powerful tool, after all.

Giles frowned. "It's possible that the closest we could come would be to the marriage bonds and hand fasting that is described in old legends and tales. Those types of bonds are never undertaken rashly, and from what I do know of them – if they really exist – breaking them would cause irreparable harm to one or both of you."

"That would not be a good thing. Let's avoid that scenario, please."

"Indeed," Charles agreed. He looked seriously at Buffy. "Eliz – ahem – Buffy…the bond is not going to do much, except allow us to sense each other and to know when the other person is close by. If we work at it, we could strengthen it to the point where we could communicate with each other from pretty much anywhere on Earth, especially once you come into your full powers. I'm a very powerful telepath, and I believe that you will be nearly as strong as I am. But if you don't want to work at it then…" What he was about to say was going to be the hardest thing he'd ever said. "I understand, and I won't push. It's possible that if we don't use the bond, and I go back to New York, time and distance will mute it to the point that neither of us will realize that it's there."

"That might not be such a bad idea," Buffy replied immediately.

Charles closed his eyes. He had made the offer, despite how much it hurt, and his daughter was rejecting him. He wanted so badly to get to know her, since he had never been there to see her childhood, but if she didn't want that – if she was happy with her life the way it was – then he would have to accept that.

Buffy felt a pang go through her at the look of pain on the professor's face. She knew she wasn't being fair to him. He had been nothing but kind to her, even if he was a little odd, and it was obvious that she was hurting him deeply. He truly believed that she was his long-lost daughter, and in his mind, she was rejecting him.

She sighed. "Giles, what about Dr. Xavier's belief that I am his daughter? Could a bond like this form because he _thinks_ I'm his missing daughter?" Just because she played the dumb blonde card for all it was worth didn't mean that she couldn't think things through logically or theorize about causes and effects when necessary.

Giles shook his head again. "I honestly don't know, Buffy. Something might turn up in my research, but until I actually start looking into it…" He absent-mindedly shifted several of the books that were sitting on the table in the middle of the room, as if he wanted to start looking. "As far as you being his daughter, the easiest way to verify it would be through a DNA test, just like Dr. Xavier suggested."

Charles nodded. "I would be more than willing to pay for the test," he told them. "It would only take a matter of minutes to set up an appointment with an independent lab – I know of one that operates in every state in the country."

Buffy bit her lip for a moment, hesitating. The memories that the Professor had shown her had raised some questions in her mind. And, of course, there was the bond between them. Would it be so bad just to find out and take care of this once and for all? "Would my mom have to know?"

"You're eighteen, aren't you?" Charles asked, quietly. When Buffy nodded, he shook his head. "Under this country's laws, you're a legal adult. Your – mother – would not have to give consent. If you want to inform her before we take the test, I have no objections."

"No," Buffy said immediately. "I don't want her to know until we get the results. If she's been lying to me – not that I think she has – I want proof to show her before I talk to her about it."

Charles looked between his daughter and Mr. Giles, waiting for a decision. Finally, after several seconds, they both nodded. "Let's do it and settle this once and for all," Buffy said softly.

Charles nodded and reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He pressed a number on his speed dial and held it up, waiting for it to connect on the other end.

"_Xavier School for Gifted Students. What can I do fer ya?" _Logan's rough voice answered, making an attempt to be serious and polite and failing utterly.

"Logan, it's Charles," he said crisply. "I need a favor." He was aware of his daughter and Mr. Giles watching him alertly, even though they had moved to the far end of the table and were talking quietly amongst themselves while he made his call.

"_Sure thing, Chuck. What'cha need?"_

"I need you to go into my study and find a phone number in my Rolodex for me," Charles told him.

"_Yeah, sure."_

He heard Logan's heavy, booted footsteps on the marble floors of his mansion, the sound of the door to his study opening, and then the sound of Logan looking around on his desk.

"_Ok, what am I lookin' fer?"_ Logan asked.

"It's a number for United States Laboratory Testing Services," Charles explained. "I'm looking for the central number for the western United States."

"_Gotcha. Gimme a sec to find it."_

*******************************************************************

"Giles, is this a good idea? I mean, I don't think I am his daughter, but should we really be doing this?" Buffy asked quietly as she waited for Dr. Xavier to make the arrangements for the DNA test.

"It's a complication that we don't need right now, Buffy," Giles told her. "We've got enough on our minds right now with your telepathy and the Ascension, not to mention the regular patrols and Slaying that you have to do. One way or another, we need to get it settled, you were right about that."

Buffy sighed and continued to watch their visitor. "I suppose this is the least we can do, since he did give me some help in controlling my telepathy."

"Yes, Buffy."

Buffy hopped up on the top of the table and idly picked up one of the books that Giles had pushed to the side when they had come in. "Anything new on the Ascension?" she asked in an undertone.

Giles shook his head – somewhat reluctantly, she thought. "I'm afraid not, Buffy. We'll keep looking of course, but at the moment, we seem to be in a waiting game."

"Waiting…" she frowned. Why did that sound so familiar? Something about it was bugging her, but she couldn't think what it was.

Giles looked up and blinked at her. "I'm sorry? Did you say something?"

"No, you did, Giles. You said something about waiting…" Buffy closed her eyes and tried to concentrate. What was it that was bothering her?

"_It is time to go home. He is waiting. Elizabeth…sweet Elizabeth…it is time."_

Buffy's eyes shot open as the memory suddenly snapped into place. "The dream!"

Giles frowned. "Dream?"

Buffy nodded. "That dream that I was having, about the woman saying that it was time to go home? She kept saying 'He is waiting'." Buffy stared from Giles to the professor. "Giles…could she – whoever she was – have been talking about Dr. Xavier? It seems like too much of a coincidence that I would get my powers unlocked, start dreaming about a strange woman who kept talking about going home, and then have a man show up who is not only a telepath, but one who claims that I am his daughter, and who I mysteriously bonded with?"

Giles slowly removed his glasses again and looked thoughtful. "It does seem to be an incredible coincidence, Buffy."

"And I don't believe in coincidence, remember?" Buffy asked, somewhat triumphantly.

"You may be on to something."

Dr. Xavier hung up his phone and snapped it closed suddenly, drawing their attention. "I've made arrangements for the lab to come out on Monday afternoon to take the samples that they'll need for the test," he told them. "The technician will take the samples right back to the lab in Los Angeles, and we'll have the results within a few days. Everything will be legal so that there won't be any doubt."

Buffy nodded as she looked at the older man in a new light. If her dream was right…well, they would know the truth in a few days. After a moment, she frowned. "Don't you have to head back to New York?"

Charles shook his head. "I'm staying until we get to the bottom of this. "Ororo and Jean will go back tomorrow night, and when everything here has been taken care of, they'll come back to pick me up, or I'll just take a regular commercial flight." He looked at her seriously. "I lost you once, Elizabeth. I'm not going to lose you again, and I'm not going to walk away."

_Make me happy! Don't forget to review!_


	21. Chapter 20: Deeper Investigation

_Author's Note: *creeps out of hiding and waves shyly* Uh...hi, everyone! I am so terribly sorry about the delay in updating this story. I keep telling myself that I am not going to do this to you, but every time I promise myself that, my muse decides to abandon me. For the longest time I could not decide where I wanted to go with this chapter, but my writer's block finally resolved itself over the last couple of days while I've been stranded at home because of the blizzards in the Mid-Atlantic area._

_Rest assured, I have no plans to abandon this story…but I can't make promises about when the next chapter will be out…just keep sending me encouragement, and you will get another chapter! Thanks to __**pixie freak**__ as well…your most recent message lit my fire to start working on this chapter again!_

_**Chapter Twenty: Deeper Investigation**_

"_I would say in just about every investigation we have, there will be differences of opinion, where you have partial facts, as to what those facts mean."__  
__Robert Mueller_

_Angel's Mansion…same time…_

Willow sighed as she bookmarked the last link. "I think that's all that we're going to be able to find, Angel. It doesn't give us a lot to work with, and that case file is shockingly scarce, considering it's the FBI."

Angel shook his head. "I'm still impressed that you managed to hack the FBI's archives," he replied, his tone slightly awed. "I hope you know what you're doing."

Willow laughed. "For a government agency, they have pretty poor security on their cold cases. It's a lot harder to get current information than it is to get old data." She rolled her head a bit on her shoulders to loosen the tension. "I just don't know what to do with all of this stuff."

Angel sighed, an odd sound coming from him considering that he didn't need to breathe. "I know. I mean, we know that he's wealthy, well-known in academic circles, a published author, and tragically lost his wife and child…but I don't know how that'll help us."

"Maybe we should take it to Giles?" Willow wondered. "He might be able to do something with it. I-I mean, he's met Dr. Xavier and all."

Angel thought about it. "That might be the best course of action." He sighed. "I might just be overreacting, and there may not be anything behind his claims that he wants to recruit Buffy. If the fact that he's a telepath and he's interested in her because she is also a telepath is the only reason for coming out here, I don't think that it's a big deal."

"I-it would be a good thing, wouldn't it?" Willow asked hesitantly. "I-I mean, Buffy would get the training that she needs to control her new powers."

Angel nodded. "If you would take what we found to Giles, and ask him to look at it, that would be great Willow. We'll let Giles make the next call about what to do. He might not be Buffy's official Watcher anymore, but he won't do anything to hurt her."

Willow nodded and shut down her laptop. "I need to meet them again to do some more research on the Ascension. I'll give it to him later."

"Thanks for coming over Willow. I feel a little better knowing that we at least started to do something." He still had a sense of uneasiness about this mysterious Professor, but at the moment there was nothing else he could do – and the man seemed nice enough.

But if there was something going on, and it did prove to be a threat to Buffy… well, there was very little he wouldn't do to protect her. Just because he and Buffy had decided to cool their relationship didn't mean he didn't still love her.

* * *

_Sunnydale Airport…late Sunday afternoon…_

"Charles, are you sure about this?" Ororo asked from where she and Jean stood off to the side talking quietly while Jean prepped the jet for take-off.

"I'm positive, Storm," he told her gently. "Jean can't miss any more school, and I am not leaving until I have the proof that will confirm, once and for all, whether or not Elizabeth is my daughter."

"I can come back after I take Jean home," Ororo offered.

Charles shook his head, amused. "Logan wouldn't be happy with that. I'll be fine, Storm. If I need you, I'll call."

Ororo hesitated for a long moment, but finally she nodded. "All right, but be careful Charles."

"I promise," he said with a smile.

She continued to hesitate for another moment before she finally turned and entered the jet. Charles turned his chair and maneuvered it out of the way as Jean raised the stairs and sealed the plane shut. Seconds later, the engines roared, kicking up a cloud of dust and smoke as the sleek Blackbird rose into the air. It hovered over his head and Charles spotted Jean and Ororo waving at him from the cockpit.

He waved back at them before they turned the jet around and shot up into the clouds, heading east and flying high enough to avoid regular air traffic. It was a matter of seconds before they were out of sight, and once they were, he started to head back to the hotel.

He had spent the day working with Elizabeth and her telepathy again. Today, however, Jean had assisted him by attacking her telepathically while he had observed his daughter's reaction and offered suggestions on how to improve her shield. It had been good practice for Jean as well, since there were no other telepaths at the school except for the two of them, and he had no difficulty blocking Jean when they ran this exercise. It had been productive for the two teens to work together, and because they were closer in skill level it was more of a challenge for them to test each other.

For a moment, he felt a pang of guilt about leaving Logan and Ororo in charge of the X-Men for at least another week. He had a responsibility to the students to be there to guide their training. Ever since he had opened his home to young mutants, he had made it his personal mission to guide them, train them, and prepare them to become a part of society in a way that would be beneficial to all mankind. It was the reason he took care to be at every single training session unless he absolutely had no choice.

_You don't have a choice now,_ his thoughts pummeled him mercilessly. _This is Elizabeth that you're talking about. You can't abandon her, and you can't leave without knowing the truth!_

He had lost so much...for once in his life, he was going to do something for himself – for his peace of mind.

Tomorrow after Elizabeth's school day ended, they were going to meet the technician from the DNA testing lab and give the samples for the paternity test. Then, by the end of the week, they would know for sure whether or not Elizabeth was his daughter – and he could start piecing together the story of how she got all the way out in California.

Part of him was anxious and uneasy. What if Buffy was right and he was only seeing what he wanted to see? He didn't believe it was possible – she _had_ to be his daughter – but there was always the chance…

No, he couldn't think like that. The test would verify her identity, and they would go from there. Once they had the truth, they could talk to Joyce Summers and find out exactly how she came to raise his daughter…and if necessary, once he had the evidence in hand, he could get back in touch with the authorities and let them sort it out.

The rest of his students would understand once they learned the truth, and he had no doubt that they wouldn't begrudge him this one chance to find a missing member of his family.

He just had to keep thinking positively.

* * *

_Sunnydale High Library…same time…_

Willow picked up yet another stack of books that they had pulled out in an effort to find more information about the Ascension. She moved slowly, watching closely as Wesley picked up his bag and started to head out. That was one thing that she had noticed was very different about him and Giles. When Giles had been Buffy's Watcher, there had been nights where he had pulled all night research sessions and done so without complaining or blinking an eye.

Wesley was at least twenty years younger than Giles, and thus far Willow couldn't remember a single instance of him staying overnight to research anything. If anything, he was usually one of the first ones to leave. Willow wasn't sure what to think about it. Did Wesley really think that he was so much more superior to them that he didn't have to stay? Or did he really not think it was necessary? This was Wesley's first year on the Hellmouth…maybe with a little more experience he would start to take Giles' example?

Willow shook her head and started replacing books on the shelves. They were running out of places to look for information about the Ascension. The Council was coming up empty, and thus far Giles' books seemed to be coming up empty. Even the Pergamum Codex that Angel had retrieved for Giles two years ago held no references to the Slayer fighting off an Ascension.

For the moment, they had decided that it wasn't worth wasting their energy on another all night research party. From what they did know, thanks to Angel's charade with Faith and the Mayor, the Ascension wouldn't happen until graduation, so they still had about a month before they were faced with the critical hour.

Willow finished shelving her armload of books and came back down to the table. Her laptop was still sitting there, and she quickly booted it up and started to print out all the information that she and Angel had collected the day before. Wesley's hovering presence had prevented her from giving it to Giles yesterday, but now that he was gone, she could talk to the former Watcher in private.

Giles came out of his office at the sound of the printer. "Willow? What are you still doing here?"

"I need to talk to you, Giles," Willow said as she printed out the last set of documents, the case file that she had hacked from the FBI. She quickly closed down the computer and went over to the printer to retrieve the papers.

"Is something wrong?" Giles asked with a note of concern in his voice.

Willow smiled sadly to herself. That was one thing that she loved about Giles. Even though he had only been assigned to help Buffy, he treated all of the Scoobies like they were his charges. He always made sure that he had time for them if they needed him.

She turned back to face him before she extended the papers for him. "Angel asked me to help him do some checking into Dr. Xavier. This is everything we found. Angel and I thought that you might know what to do with it."

Giles frowned and took the papers that she handed him. He started reading, moving over to the table where the light was better. Willow watched him and waited. It didn't take long before he reached the FBI file that she had snagged.

Giles' head shot up as soon as he realized what he was looking at. "Willow…dear Lord, what did you do? You hacked the FBI?"

Willow shrugged. "It's not a big deal, Giles. They'll never know I was there. They had really lousy security. And that case file is eighteen years old. I doubt that anyone is going through and checking on files that old. Even if they do figure out that they got hacked, they'll never be able to trace it to me." While she might be shy and hesitant in social situations, the one thing that she did have confidence in was her computer skills.

Giles stared at her for another moment, before he finally decided that it was better not to say anything else as he returned his attention to the file. His face grew darker as he read and when he finally put it down, there was a look that she had only seen on his face a few times – namely the time they had cornered Ethan Rayne at his shop on Halloween, again when they had cornered Ethan during the incident with Eyghon, and then during the band candy incident.

"Giles?"

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Willow," he said coldly. "I'll need to think about this for a few days before I make any decisions."

"Giles, are you all right?" Willow asked, suddenly worried that she'd made a mistake in bringing the information to the Watcher.

Giles looked at her and his face softened slightly as warmth crept back into his tone. "Yes, dear girl. I'm fine." He stood up and started to head to his office. "You run along home now, and I'll see you tomorrow morning."

Willow hesitated for a moment, before she gathered up her things and started off. She made sure that she had her stake and holy water handy. It was still a little early for vampires, but it never hurt to be careful. Luckily, her house was only a few blocks from the school.

* * *

_Giles apartment…later…_

Giles stared at the phone resting so innocuously on his desk. He had a difficult decision ahead of him. If there was a chance that his Slayer had been abducted as a child, there might be more to the situation than even he knew. It wasn't a common practice among the Council, but every so often the inner sanctum of the Council leadership needed to act above the law in order to protect a Potential Slayer. Sometimes – although Giles didn't really agree with the idea – that meant taking steps to ensure that a Potential was placed with a different family than the one that she had been born with.

And given the information that Willow and Angel had uncovered….it was enough to make him suspect that something unusual was going on where Buffy was concerned. He needed more information, however…and at the moment there was only one way he could get it, short of going through Wesley, and that he would not do. Buffy wasn't ready for Wesley to know the truth about her new "gift" and Giles agreed. There was no way Wesley wouldn't run to the Council – and Travers - about the matter…which only gave him one choice.

He tapped his fingers on the desk for another moment, before reaching for his address book and opening it. He flipped through several pages until he found the name he was looking for. After another moment's furious internal debate, he reached for the handset and dialed.

"_Hello_?" a crisp, feminine voice said after several rings.

"Roberta?" Giles asked. "It's Rupert Giles."

"_Rupert!"_ now Roberta sounded uneasy. "_I'm not supposed to talk to you anymore, since you've been expelled from the Council_."

"Roberta, please. I just want to call in the favor that you owe me." Years ago, when Giles had been a junior Watcher, he had helped Roberta MacTavish out of a sticky spot with Quentin Travers – a situation that hadn't been entirely of her making – and she had promised to repay the favor one day.

"_Rupert…"_ she sighed. "_Fine, what do you need?"_

"I need you to check the Council archives for me. I can't ask Wesley, because at the moment he doesn't need to know about this…but I think it's important for my Slayer."

"_Your former Slayer_," Roberta corrected gently.

Giles shook his head in frustration. "No matter what reason Travers gave for firing me, I will always consider Buffy Summers to be _my_ Slayer," he said fiercely. "The Cruciamentum is barbaric torture and I regret to this day that I ever agreed to be a part of it." He took a deep breath after his outburst. "Will you help me, Roberta?"

"_Rupert…what you're asking me for…I could be expelled from the Council if I got caught."_

"I know, Roberta. But I just have a feeling that this is important. Call it intuition from being on the Hellmouth for so long or just a reaction that I have to protect my Slayer…"

"_That was one thing that I always admired about you, Rupert. Your loyalty once it is given."_

Giles blinked in surprise at the compliment. While he had considered Roberta a friend ever since he had met her, he hadn't expected that from her. "Will you help me?"

Another sigh. "_I'm going to regret this… but yes. What am I looking for when I invade the archives for you?"_

* * *

_Sunnydale Library…the next afternoon…_

"Now, Buffy. We should discuss your patrol tonight. It is important that you don't slack off anywhere, because that's when vampires will start making nests."

Buffy bit her lip hard, to keep from making a snide remark. She really hated it when Wesley went on one of his pompous 'I am your Watcher and you will listen to me' rants. After a moment, she spoke. "Gee, Wesley. I didn't know that. I will be glad to discuss it with you later, but right now I have an appointment. I'll be back later."

"An appointment? What kind of appointment?" Wesley demanded, his tone confused.

"I have to meet someone and give him something important," Buffy replied. "Don't worry, I'll be back in a little while." She grabbed her bag and headed for the library door. "Bye, Giles!"

"Have a good afternoon, Buffy!" Giles replied as he carried a load of books over to the counter. They had agreed that – in order to keep Wesley busy – Giles would stay at the library with the younger Watcher, while Buffy met Dr. Xavier at his hotel before they went over to Angel's place. The technician from the lab would meet them there and they would give the samples that they needed. After that, the Professor would work with Buffy on controlling her telepathy some more, and then Buffy would go back to the library to get ready for her early patrol.

"B-but…" Wesley stammered. "This is highly irregular!"

Buffy rolled her eyes, since Wesley couldn't see her, and waved a hand over her shoulder dismissively. "Chill out Wesley! I'll catch you later!"

She left the school quickly, grateful that Willow and Xander wouldn't be back until later. The two of them were going to study for a few hours before they came back to help research the Ascension again. She didn't want to have to lie to them about where she was going. It had been hard, keeping Dr. Xavier's news limited to just Angel and Giles over the weekend. She had really wanted to talk to Willow about it, but until they had definitive proof, she knew it would be better to wait.

She made her way from the high school over to Dr. Xavier's hotel in record time, but despite her quick travel, he was already waiting for her near the front door. As she approached, she had to admit that he was an impressive man. The wheelchair did absolutely nothing to detract from the aura of power and control that he had built up around himself. If anything, it only accentuated it. Dressed in a neat, pressed suit and tie, waiting patiently with his hands steepled against the arms of the chair, his entire being commanded respect.

"Good afternoon, Elizabeth," he said calmly as he spotted her approaching him.

"Good afternoon, Professor," she returned, politely.

"I trust you had a good day?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, there was no mayhem or chaos today, so I'd call it of the good," she replied somewhat flippantly, before she realized what she'd said. _Oh crap!_ _Did he pick up on any of that?_ She quickly performed the little "mental check" he'd taught her, but found to her relief that the shield he'd showed her how to create was still intact. But then the uneasiness returned as she remembered that he could get past her shields without even blinking if he wanted to.

"Oh?" he asked, and Buffy held her breath, waiting for him to say more. "Well, I suppose, given some of the horror stories about high school that I've heard from my own students, that is something to be thankful for."

Buffy exhaled slowly. Whatever horrors the Professor's mutant students went through at their high school, she doubted that they had anything on the horrors that Sunnydale High regularly cooked up. But at least he hadn't sensed anything about her being the Slayer.

"Are you ready?" Charles asked, noticing the way she had relaxed suddenly. It was an odd response, but he decided that now was not the time to press her on it. She had no reason to trust him, after all. At least, not yet. Hopefully, with the results of the DNA test, she would be more inclined to trust him, because then she'd be able understand that he was telling the truth about having been adopted.

Buffy nodded. "Yeah. Angel's waiting at his house for us."

Charles indicated that she should lead the way. As she turned and started walking up the street, he sent his chair after her. It was a beautiful afternoon, with the sun shining, and the temperature warm without being overly hot. A day like today, back in Bayville, was enough for the X-Men to usually, _en masse_, try to con their way out of a training session so they could enjoy the afternoon. Of course, they rarely succeeded in getting out of training, but Logan and Ororo were usually willing to compromise and hold the sessions outside.

He wondered what Logan and Ororo had planned for the students' training this afternoon. He was sure, knowing Logan as well as he did that it would be truly challenging. Logan loved taking advantage of Charles' rare absences to push the team harder than ever. Not that Charles' disapproved. Difficult challenges lay in their future, and he had no objections to Logan coming up with a session that the team _couldn't_ conquer on the first try. It was good practice for them.

As they turned onto Crawford Street a few minutes later, Charles could see Angel's mansion in the distance. He still didn't know what to think about his daughter's boyfriend. He was nice enough, it was true, but Charles had a sense that there was more to Angel than it appeared…and that both he and Elizabeth were keeping something hidden.

Angel had been expecting them, so the door was unlocked. Buffy pushed it open and held it for Dr. Xavier, before closing it carefully to keep the sunlight that was so dangerous to the vampire out. She looked around the room, but before she could call out, Angel emerged from his bedroom. He smiled when he saw them and Buffy returned his smile before walking up to him and giving him a gentle kiss.

"Hey Buffy," the vampire said softly as they broke apart. "How was school?"

She shrugged, not wanting to discuss it in detail with the Professor right next to them. "It was okay, I guess. Another hoop of the week from Snyder though."

Angel shook his head. "What is it this time?"

Buffy snorted. "He caught me heading to the library to talk to Wesley on the way to my science class and thought I was skipping, so I have to spend my free period serving detention for the rest of the week."

Angel sighed. "Well, at least you've only got another month before you're free of him."

"Who is Snyder?" Charles asked.

"Our troll of a principal," Buffy responded. "He's hated me from the minute he took the job halfway through my sophomore year. He thinks I'm just a trouble-maker, and he's done everything in his power to expel me. He actually did one time, but the school board forced him to let me back in when it was proved I didn't do what he accused me of. So now he comes up with ways to make my life miserable."

Charles frowned deeply. What she was describing wasn't right by any stretch of the imagination…and even though Mystique, acting as Principal Darkholme at Bayville High, had a tendency to come down hard on his students, at least there was always a real _reason_ for her punishments.

Before he could say anything, however, there was a knock at the front door, and Buffy went to answer it. Angel moved to the far side of the room, where it was darkest, taking no chances on coming into contact with the sunlight.

A middle-aged gentleman stood on the front step, holding a briefcase and pulling a large plastic box on a hand cart. "Hello, I'm Abraham Jameson from the United States Laboratory Testing Services. I'm looking for…Charles Xavier?"

"You're in the right place," Buffy assured him, stepping aside to let him in without actually using the words, 'Come in'. Some habits were just too hard to break, even though Angel's mansion didn't have the same protection on it that a regular residence would.

Jameson walked into the house and Buffy carefully closed the door behind him to protect Angel. She led him into the main room where Charles was sitting by the cold fireplace as Angel stepped out into the center of the room again.

Charles held out his hand. "I'm Charles Xavier. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Jameson took his hand and shook it. "It's my understanding that you need a legal paternity test run?"

Charles nodded and indicated Buffy. "We'd like to be tested to see if I am her biological father."

The technician nodded and looked at Buffy. "Is your mother going to provide a sample?"

Buffy hesitated. "Does she have to?"

He shook his head. "Not at all. We ask for the mother, because it helps us to eliminate half of your DNA, which leaves the remaining half for comparison to the potential father. It takes a little bit more analysis to do a motherless test, but there's no extra charge, and you should still have the results within three to five days."

Buffy nodded in understanding. "No, my…mother is not going to be here."

Jameson nodded. "All right. What I will need before we begin is for both of you to sign a consent form, and I'll need to see a government issued ID to verify your identity. I will also need to photograph and fingerprint both of you, for our records. That way if the test is challenged in court, we'll have the correct documentation."

Charles reached inside his jacket pocket and removed his wallet, extracting his driver's license and handing it to the other man, as Buffy extracted her learner's permit from her purse.

Jameson reached into the briefcase and pulled out two clipboards with forms attached and handed them to Charles and Buffy, and as they went to work reading and signing the forms, he pulled out the equipment necessary to photograph and fingerprint them.

The photographing and fingerprinting took almost no time, and then he turned to Charles. "Am I correct, sir, in thinking that you will be paying for the test?"

Charles nodded and reached into his jacket again. "How much?"

"It'll be five hundred and forty-five dollars in all, but we only require a ninety-nine dollar partial payment up front."

Buffy paled at the cost. "Professor…are you sure you want…"

"Believe me, Buffy, I consider it money well spent," Charles told her easily. "It's a small price to pay to know the truth."

Buffy bit her lip again, but finally nodded. "All right, if you're sure."

Charles nodded and extracted his checkbook. He quickly wrote out a check for the full amount and handed it to the technician. "I'm certain."

Jameson took the check and added it to the paperwork they had already signed, filling out a receipt and handing that back to him.

As they dealt with the financial matters, Buffy was slowly coming to the realization of how important this was to Dr. Xavier. He hadn't even blinked when the cost was named, and he hadn't had a single problem with paying the entire amount upfront. He had mentioned that he ran a private school in New York…she couldn't even begin to imagine how much it must cost to go there if he didn't think five hundred dollars was a lot of money to spend on a DNA test.

_Even if he's not my father…I don't think there is anyway I could afford to go to his school,_ she thought. _Northwestern would be hard enough…how could Mom possibly afford to send me all the way to New York?_

With all the paperwork completed, the technician turned back to the plastic box and reached inside it for a smaller box. He opened it and pulled out a pair of sterile gloves, which he quickly put on with the ease of long practice. Then he reached into the box and pulled out a vial that had a black screw top lid with what appeared to be a Q-Tip attached to the inside of it. Removing the lid, he looked between them. "Which of you would like to go first?"

"What do we have to do?" Buffy asked.

"Just open your mouth," Jameson assured her. "This is a buccal swab. I'll just rub this on the inside of your cheek and collect some of the cells. When I take it back to the lab, we'll process it and run it through our equipment, and the computer will compare your DNA. Once we're done processing, we'll be able to give you the results – anywhere up to 99.9% inclusion – which means that you're most likely father and daughter, or we'll be able to give you a 100% exclusion – meaning you're not related."

"Why not 100% that he is my father?" Buffy asked.

"There's always some margin for error – and since identical twins have identical DNA, we don't offer 100% positive results."

Charles laughed. "I assure you, I don't have an identical twin. I am an only child."

Jameson shrugged. "Either way, 99.9% still gives you a fairly strong conclusion."

Buffy nodded. "All right. I guess I'll go first." She opened her mouth and a moment later, Jameson was screwing the lid back on the vial. He quickly sealed it with a piece of tape to keep the contents protected from outside contaminants before he put it back in the box. He then removed the gloves, put on a new pair, and repeated the procedure on Charles.

"All right, you're done. I'll take this back to the lab, and then we'll start processing the samples," he said as he put another seal on the box that held the two vials. "We'll send the results to the address that you listed, Dr. Xavier via first class mail, since you're the one paying for the test."

"That's fine," Charles replied. He had listed the mansion as the place to send the results, and he had made arrangements with Ororo so that she would retrieve the results when they arrived and then call him immediately to let him know what it said.

"You should have the results within five days," Jameson promised.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Jameson," Charles said, extending his hand again once he had everything packed up. "I appreciate your willingness to come to us."

"Yes, thank you," Buffy added. There was no way that she could have kept all of this from her mom if she'd had to take a trip down to Los Angeles for this test, and she still wasn't ready to discuss it. Not until she had proof of Dr. Xavier's claim.

"It wasn't a problem. You folks have a nice day." He headed toward the door, and Buffy went with him to let him out and make sure that the door closed all the way.

Once he was gone, she went back to Dr. Xavier. "I guess all we can do now is wait."

Angel wrapped her up in a hug. "You'll know soon enough, Buffy. Don't worry about it."

It took all of Charles' restraint not to say anything about his daughter and her boyfriend. He didn't want to drive her away by being unreasonable, after all. But as he watched the two of them, he realized that something was odd. Even with her shield in place, he could still sense his daughter, faintly. He couldn't get any idea of what she was thinking, but telepathically, he could feel her. But with Angel…

Opening up his shield somewhat, he extended a mental probe in the younger man's direction, but encountered…nothing. Frowning, he tried again, with a slightly stronger probe, and again watched as it fizzled into nothing.

He had never encountered anything like it. To his telepathy, no matter what his eyes were telling him, Angel just wasn't there.

**Don't forget to review!**


	22. Chapter 21: The Burden of Responsibility

**Author's Note: Hey guys! I'm back again, much faster this time! I want to thank everyone for their awesome reviews...especially AllenPitt...you have just been sending me some very thought provoking stuff in your reviews lately, and I love it!**

**Couple of small things tonight...we're going to flash back to X-Men verse for a bit, so this chapter intersects with the X-Men: Evolution episode SpykeCam from season 1. If you haven't seen that episode, there's a free streaming video of it at . Oh, and for anyone who might not be familiar with Evolution-verse...in season 1, Mystique plays the role of Principal Darkholme at Bayville High so she can recruit students to the Brotherhood. Also, for the purposes of this story, I made up the history for Joyce and Hank.**

**I think that's it for the notes tonight...on with the story!**

* * *

_**Chapter Twenty-One: The Burden of Responsibility**_

"_Responsibility walks hand in hand with capacity and power."_

_- __**Josiah Gilbert Holland**_

Charles did his best to mask his expression as Elizabeth broke her hug with Angel. He had never seen anything like this before. Even when he was dealing with other telepathic mutants with strong shields of their own, they had still created a small tingle in his mind. That simple fact made it almost impossible for anyone to sneak up on him.

But Angel – it was as if the just wasn't there. If it was a telepathic shield, it was the most sophisticated one he had ever seen.

"Professor, did you want to work on my shield some more?" Elizabeth's question pierced his ruminations and he focused his attention on his daughter.

"Yes, I did," he replied calmly. "Once we've done that, I have a few other techniques I'd like to try to teach you. Given how well you and Jean did yesterday, I don't think they'll be too advanced for you. But before we start, I have a question for Angel."

Angel turned to face him fully, his dark brown eyes reflecting his curiosity. "What is it, Professor?"

"Where did you learn telepathic shielding?" Charles asked, still trying to probe him. "I have never seen a shield like yours. It's as if you aren't there, and despite the fact that I can see you with my eyes, to my telepathy, you are not."

Buffy tensed, wondering how they were going to explain this. She glanced at Angel, hoping the vampire had some ideas.

To her surprise, Angel allowed a politely puzzled expression to cross his face. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, Dr. Xavier. You and Buffy are the first telepaths I've ever come in contact with."

Charles shook his head. It made no sense. There had to be something more to it. "You have the most amazing mental shield that I've ever seen, but no one ever taught you how to do it?"

Angel shook his head. "No. I didn't even know that I had one of these…shields."

"Elizabeth, can you sense him at all?" Charles asked, turning to look at his daughter. He was curious to know how she had responded to his unique shielding when her powers were out of control.

"Nope. Not even a blink on the radar," she replied, looking up at Angel. "He was the only person I could stand to be around until you taught me how to shield, but I didn't know why."

"Amazing…" Charles murmured. He was a powerful telepath, and if he needed to he could make himself "invisible" to another telepath, but it required all of his focus and attention. The slightest slip made him "visible" again. But if that's what Angel was doing, he was doing it effortlessly. It was an incredible display of power. If only he had Cerebro…it would be interesting to see if Angel remained invisible to him when he was using the powerful amplification device.

"Is that unusual?" Buffy asked, somehow managing to maintain their cover. She couldn't admit to knowing that vampires were immune to telepathy, or that Angel was a vampire. She still didn't know what to think, but if Dr. Xavier did end up being her father, she couldn't tell him about her world. She wouldn't force him into the darkness and death that was her life.

"I've never met anyone that has this type of shield before," he explained. "If I have to, I can mask my presence from another telepath, but it takes all my focus, so I don't usually bother with it. My shields are strong enough that I don't usually have to worry about someone attacking me directly."

"Oh."

Although he was still fascinated by Angel, Charles shook himself. Now wasn't the time to be focusing on this. His daughter still needed training. She had improved vastly in the two days that he had been working with her, but she still had a long way to go. In fact, he was a little surprised at how quickly she had picked up on what he was trying to teach her. Yes, it had taken her several hours to get a strong shield in place, but once she had it, everything else seemed to have simply slipped into place. She and Jean had worked wonderfully together, and while Jean was used to someone attacking her mind, Elizabeth wasn't, yet his daughter had been able to repel all of Jean's mental attacks the day before.

As he thought about that, he realized that it was unusual. Jean had needed weeks of practice before she had been able to successfully hold off one of his mental attacks, and that had been when he had been deliberately gentle to avoid hurting her. True, in Jean's case, her telepathy was nowhere near as strong as her telekinesis, but Elizabeth…it was as if, once she had figured out what he had wanted her to do, it became child's play. He had never seen anyone pick it up as fast as his daughter had.

Frowning to himself, he resolved to think about it later. Right now, Elizabeth was waiting for instructions on what to do first. He shook his head slightly before looking at her. "Elizabeth, how did you react being around everyone at school today, with your shield in place?"

"It went really well," she replied. "I forced myself to do my check at the beginning and end of every class, and I didn't have any sense that I was going to lose control of my shield. But other than when Sny – um, _Principal_ Snyder was coming down on me, I wasn't really stressed about anything. Jean told me yesterday that it was hardest to maintain a shield when you're in a stressful situation?" She shot him a questioning look.

"That's true," Charles agreed. "Stress will always make it harder for you to maintain your shield. Even I'm not immune to that weakness. Fortunately, I have enough years behind me that it takes a great deal to stress me to the point where my shields waver. The last time was right after my wife died and you were taken from me."

All three of them fell silent for a moment as they considered those words, before Charles shook off the memories. "At any rate…" A ringing phone interrupted him and he frowned before he reached inside his coat and removed it. "I'm sorry; please excuse me for a moment."

Buffy and Angel nodded and he moved his chair over to the side of the room before he answered the phone. "Hello?"

"_Professor, its Storm."_

"Yes, Ororo, what is it?" A sudden worry pierced him. "The students?"

"_Are fine, but Kurt has had a problem. His image inducer has malfunctioned and no one knows how to fix it. I already received a call from Principal Darkholme about him skipping his afternoon classes today because of it. Until it's fixed, he won't be able to go back to classes."_

Charles closed his eyes in understanding. He was the only one at the Institute who knew how to fix Kurt's image inducer, which he wore to hide his appearance. He had been one of the unfortunate mutants whose physical appearance had been altered as a result of his mutation. In order to get him into classes, Charles had created a watch that, when Kurt wore it, it would cloak him with a hologram and make him appear as if he wasn't a mutant.

"All right, Storm," he finally said with a sigh. "Send the jet to pick me up and I'll come back and fix it. I'll return to Sunnydale after this is taken care of."

"_Logan is already prepping the jet. He'll leave in about an hour, and he should be there by dusk."_ Storm's tone was sympathetic. _"I understand you don't want to leave until everything is resolved, Professor."_

"That's a mild understatement, Ororo," he replied. "I'll be waiting for Logan where we landed last time."

"_Understood, Professor. I'll let him know. We'll see you tonight."_ With that, the weather witch hung up the phone and Charles folded his own phone closed.

_Why now of all times, Kurt?_ He was frustrated with the incredibly poor timing, although he knew that this wasn't really Kurt's fault. The image inducer was really an experimental device – it was the only one like it in the world – and they were still working the kinks out of it. He couldn't blame the boy, but he just wished that this hadn't happened now.

Maneuvering his wheelchair back over to where Angel and Elizabeth were waiting, he gave them another apologetic look. "I'm afraid today will have to be a shorter session than we had planned on, my dear."

"Bad news?" Buffy wondered.

"Of a sort. One of my students needs my help, so I'll have to fly back to New York tonight. One of the other teachers is bringing the jet out tonight to pick me up, but I should be able to return tomorrow."

"Professor, if you need to be with your students, I understand," Buffy replied. "I've got enough control now that I can last for a few days, since I'm sure you'll be coming back as soon as you get the results of the test. You don't need to feel like you're abandoning me if you leave. I understand that you have other responsibilities." And quite honestly, it would be relief to have a few days to consider what she should do about revealing her Slayer powers to the Professor if it turned out that he was her father.

"Elizabeth, I had intended to stay…"

Buffy shook her head. "Don't worry about it. I told you I understand. Your students need you. As a matter of fact, I really need to go too. I have to do some homework; otherwise Principal Snyder will find new ways to make this last month before graduation miserable."

Charles sighed again. "All right, but I will be back." He looked at her intently. "I'm not going to abandon you again, Elizabeth."

* * *

_Bayville, New York…_

"I'm sorry, Storm," Nightcrawler said quietly, his tail swishing through the air slowly, reflecting his mood. "I didn't mean to cause so much trouble for the Professor."

Ororo shook her head and reached out to grasp Kurt's shoulder warmly. "You didn't, Kurt. Professor Xavier understands. Your image inducer is still a work in progress. There were bound to be some glitches along the way."

"But he's working on recruiting that new mutant to our side…he's never been gone so long, so it must be important," Nightcrawler protested.

Storm hesitated for a moment before she responded. Charles hadn't forbidden them to tell the other students about his daughter, but in all truth, it should be his news to share. She and Jean had discussed it on the flight back from Sunnydale, and they had decided not to say anything. Kitty had already promised Charles she wouldn't say anything about it, and Storm knew that Logan wouldn't breathe a word of it. Logan valued secrets too much to go around and spill another person's.

Finally, she temporized. "That's true, Kurt. I spoke to him a short time ago, though, and he understands. He'll be home in a few hours, and you should be able to go back to school tomorrow." Storm moved her hand from his shoulder to his chin, raising his head so she could look him in the eyes. "I promise, Kurt. He's not angry with you. There wasn't much else that he could do out in California for the next few days anyway."

"California?" Kurt asked, surprised.

Storm nodded. "Yes, Kurt. Don't worry about it though. I'm sure the Professor will explain everything when he's ready to say something. He may not be able to convince this new mutant to come, which is why he didn't give anyone any information."

Kurt looked a little happier, now that he knew he wasn't in trouble because his image inducer had malfunctioned and he was pulling the Professor away from something important.

"Go on, Kurt. Check with the others and find out what your homework is for tonight. Professor Xavier or I will bring your image inducer to you when it's fixed."

"Thanks, Storm," the blue-furred mutant replied quietly, before he turned and left the room.

* * *

_Sunnydale…Miller's Woods…that evening…_

Charles raised a hand to cover his eyes as the Blackbird appeared above him and started to hover in for a landing, kicking up dust and small leaves and branches as it went. It was nearly sunset, and the deepening shadows under the trees gave the small clearing a somewhat eerie feel.

As the jet settled into place, he lowered his hand and watched as the hatch opened and a lift extended down from the body of the plane. Logan appeared at the entrance and waved to let him know that it was clear to board. Charles nodded and picked up his small bag, resting it on his lap as he maneuvered his chair over to the lift.

_**All right, Logan. I'm in position. You can raise the ramp.**_

_**Understood, Charles. Hang on.**_ Logan's mental voice was gruff, as usual. A moment later a soft whirring noise came from the ramp and it quickly rose up into the ship. It was only a matter of seconds before the aircraft was sealed and Charles was able to turn his chair so he was facing his old friend.

"Did you find out what you needed, Charles?" the gruff man asked, apparently genuinely curious, as he set the controls for takeoff.

"Not entirely, Logan," Charles replied as he secured his chair in the special compartment that had been built to accommodate it. "Ororo didn't discuss it with you?"

"Hasn't really been a chance. The students kept all of us busy yesterday, and I didn't get a chance to talk to her alone without one of them needin' something."

"Well, since I know you're curious," he began, only to get a snort from the other mutant, which he didn't allow shaking him, "I did make contact with her, and she's aware of my suspicions, and the fact that she is a mutant."

"What's her power?" Wolverine asked, glancing at his friend as he angled the jet up above the clouds.

"Telepathy, which is not entirely a surprise, given the fact that she's my daughter," Xavier replied. "She's already showing the potential to be very powerful, and I suspect that she might show a touch of empathy as well, but that remains to be seen."

"Why's that?"

"Empathy and telepathy are closely related," Charles explained. "Sometimes, even though I am not an empath, under the right circumstances, I can pick up traces of emotion from the person I am scanning. As yet, it remains to be seen if Elizabeth is going to be a true empath, or if her telepathy is picking up more emotions because of her age and the emotional bond that she has with her friends."

"As if we didn't have enough of you mind readers running around the place," Logan grumbled. "Now you want to add another one?"

While the words were cold, Charles knew that Logan didn't really mean it. The other mutant was simply much more physical and wasn't keen on the mental powers that he and Jean shared. Charles had done a great deal to help Logan with his lingering amnesia and Logan appreciated it, he just wasn't fully comfortable around psychic mutants.

"She has the potential to be a very powerful telepath, Logan. We cannot afford to allow her to fall into Magneto's hands, even if she wasn't my daughter," Charles explained. "I know you're not comfortable around telepaths, but…"

Logan snorted again. "It's not that I'm not comfortable, Chuck. I appreciate your powers and Red's equally. It's just…the two of you tend to have more passive attitudes than I think are good for the team at the moment."

Charles hid a smile. Logan had always been of the opinion that fighting was the answer to everything. He understood tactics and the benefit of careful planning, but when it came down to the truth, the Wolverine would always prefer a rough and tumble, full-on fight to diplomacy.

"Well, right now you don't need to worry about it too much," Charles replied. "We had a DNA test run today, since Elizabeth wouldn't believe me without proof. We should have the results by the end of the week, and we'll go from there. At the moment, she's not even considering coming to New York. For some reason, she says she can't leave Sunnydale."

Logan glanced over at him. "And you didn't pick up anything on why?"

Charles shook his head. "I didn't try. I have no doubt that I could have, since she didn't have any type of reliable shield in place, but I can't invade her privacy that way, Logan. Not if I want to convince her that I care about her. There'll be time after we get the test results back to find out what is holding her to Sunnydale."

Logan nodded silently, admiring his friend's restraint, when, had he been in the same position, he probably wouldn't have taken the cautious route. "Well, we should be back at the mansion soon. The elf's worried that you're going to be mad at him over this."

"If he didn't deliberately try to play with it, and it simply malfunctioned, I have no reason to be angry," Charles replied.

"Naw, he wasn't messing with it, least, not as far as 'Ro or I could tell, and I didn't smell a lie on him when he said he didn't."

"Then he doesn't have anything to worry about," Charles replied. "Ororo said something about Principal Darkholme…"

"Yeah, Mystique called right after school let out, to let us know he skipped his afternoon classes," Logan agreed. "I wanted to talk to her, but Storm wouldn't let me. She said she'd take care of it, and whatever she said backed Mystique off. I think the elf might end up with a few hours of detention though for not coming to the office to notify them that he had to leave."

"I'll speak to her in the morning and sort it out," Charles noted.

* * *

_Bayville…that evening…_

Charles frowned over the magnifying lens as he adjusted some of the wires inside Kurt's image inducer. Apparently, at some point, the wires had started to loosen from their connectors, which was why the device had malfunctioned. To be completely honest, he wasn't surprised. Kurt wore the device every day, and sometimes he got into scraps with Mystique's Brotherhood boys. The image inducer was usually the first casualty.

_**Kurt, come down to my lab, please,**_ he sent to the boy as he made a final adjustment to the device.

A moment later, a puff of smoke and the strong smell of sulfur filled the air as Kurt materialized inside the room, his gift of teleportation making it easy to obey Charles' command. "Yes, Professor?"

"Try this before I finish closing it back up," he said, handing the watch to Kurt, who slipped it onto his wrist. A moment later, a flicker heralded his "transformation" to the dark-haired, fair-skinned boy that Kurt used as his disguise.

"Thanks, Professor. I nearly freaked out when it broke between classes."

"Unfortunately, it's not indestructible," Charles replied, reaching out his hand for the device. Nightcrawler slipped it off and handed it back over. It only took a few seconds for Charles to finish replacing the cover and securing it before he handed it back.

"I'm sorry that this pulled you away from what you were working on, Professor."

"These things happen from time to time, Kurt. That's why flexibility and patience are two very important traits to have. You're my student, and it's my job to help you if you need it."

"Well, thank you again, sir. I'll be more careful," Nightcrawler promised before he popped out of the room again.

Charles sighed and reached up to rub his forehead. As much as he wanted to go back to California, it was late, and until the DNA results arrived, there was really no point to going back out there. He could spend the next few days catching up on his students' training results, and work with them some more individually. There was always something that he could do for them.

But first, a good night's sleep seemed to be in order. He would be in a more rational frame of mind the next morning.

* * *

_The next afternoon…Tuesday…_

Charles aimed the cameras at the front yard of the mansion as he watched the students arrive home from school. He had contacted Mystique that morning and explained the situation to her again, managing to get Kurt out of a week's worth of detention. Sometimes he honestly didn't understand the woman. She wanted to keep the fact that there were mutants in the world as secret as he did, yet she continually found reasons to punish his students when they accidentally did something with their powers.

At the moment, he was most concerned with Evan, not Kurt. Ororo's nephew had sheepishly shown him a paper that he had received back from his current affairs class that had had a D- on it. Evan had hastened to assure him that he had already spoken to the teacher about it and had been given a new assignment to use as a make-up one. Charles was willing to wait and see what would happen, although he wasn't convinced yet that Even really understood the situation. Evan was much more free-spirited about rules and schedules than the rest of the team, and in general didn't seem to really like school. Charles and Ororo had both talked to him about it, and he seemed to understand, but it remained to be seen if he would take their words to heart or not.

An alarm blared suddenly and he quickly keyed in the commands to show the disturbance. With the cameras refocused at the front gate, he watched in horror as a huge, incredibly strong and dangerous mutant literally ripped the gates apart.

Fortunately, the automated defenses were already tracking the intruder. As Charles watched, the cannons and turrets were already firing on Sabretooth. Unfortunately, however, the huge mutant easily dodged the blasts, showing much more agility than one might suspect from someone his size.

As Sabretooth came to a stop a few paces from where Logan was standing with Evan and Scott, Charles focused on his friend. _**Logan, I thought you had prevented Sabretooth from following you here!**_ Sabretooth and Logan had old issues, and in an effort to protect the rest of the students, Logan always made sure to take precautions to keep his nemesis from following him.

_**I did last time**__, Charles,_ Logan replied, and Charles could hear the fury in his thoughts. _**But this time, he had help**_.

_Evan…_Charles thought with a sigh as he understood what Logan meant. This was something else he'd have to discuss with the boy later. Refocusing his thoughts he summoned the rest of the team. _**X-Men! Assemble on the front lawn!**_

With the assurance that the team was doing as they had been told, he turned his attention back to the monitor and watched as, seconds later, the rest of the team converged on the brewing battle.

* * *

Storm didn't understand the hatred between Sabretooth and Wolverine, but she was not about to let their ongoing fight endanger the students. As Wolverine and Sabretooth started to exchange blows, she called on the winds and rose into the air. "No! This is not the place for your private war!" Directing the winds to blow into Sabretooth's face, she summoned a lighting bolt from the clear blue sky, sending it shooting towards the other mutant. It impacted him squarely in the chest, but didn't even rock him as he continued to struggle towards Wolverine, battling against the wind.

Cyclopes made the next move. A powerful burst from his eyes, filtered through his ruby quartz visor, knocked Sabretooth backwards several feet. The other mutant struggled forward again, and this time Jean took the initiative, using her telekinesis to fling a heavy stone bench at him, taking his legs out from under him.

Another lightning bolt, combined with a blast from Scott, and the other mutant gave up. "This isn't over Logan!" he roared, turning and racing back towards the destroyed front gates.

Logan growled darkly, before taking off in pursuit of his enemy. "Wolverine, no!" she called after him, but he paid her no heed.

* * *

_Later…_

A soft tapping on the door of his study alerted him to Logan's presence. _**Come in, old friend**_, he sent calmly to the other mutant.

Logan shoved open the door and moved to stand next to him. "I lost him in the woods outside the estate, Charles. But now he knows where I am."

"We cannot win them all, Logan," the telepath tried to soothe his friend. In all the years he'd known Logan, the only thing that could get his friend's back up in this fashion was Sabretooth. He honestly didn't understand the history or the hatred between them, and because Logan had lost his memory, he couldn't even say for sure why he hated the feral mutant as much as he did.

"He'll be back, you know."

"Well, he won't come here again. He knows the automated defenses will detect him," Charles replied, steepling his fingers as he considered all the possibilities.

"Hmm…that's the problem. He'll want to get me away from here, get me alone. To do that, he's gonna need…"

A thrill of alarm shot through Charles as he realized what Logan was implying. "A hostage?"

"Humph. Got it in one."

Charles sighed, seeing his plans for the next few days starting to unravel. "This means all the students are in danger." As long as his students were at risk, he couldn't leave to return to Sunnydale to see his daughter, even after the tests came in. If he left and something happened to them…he'd never forgive himself.

"Yeah, and I gotta do something about it." Logan was quiet for a moment. "Until I catch him, we need to restrict the students to the estate. I know they've got classes, but we can't let them leave."

"I can call the school and take care of that," Charles assured him. "I'm their guardian, so I can keep them home if necessary."

"All right. If you make the announcement, I'll start hunting him down. With luck, he'll be waiting and I'll be able to catch him quickly."

"Very well, Logan." It took a moment of concentration to alert Storm and the rest of the students. As the other man left his study, Charles turned back to his work. During the time he'd been in Sunnydale, he'd had Cerebro running a check on Joyce and Hank Summers, trying to pull any scrap of information together about them in an effort to trace his daughter from New York to California.

So far, he hadn't found much. Joyce Summers _née_ Gordon had apparently been born in Los Angeles and lived there all her life until moving to Sunnydale after her divorce. She was an only child, and her father was deceased. She had a degree from The Art Institute of California in Los Angeles and was currently the owner of a small gallery and antique store in Sunnydale.

Hank Summers was also a life-long resident of Los Angeles. He was an only child; both of his parents were deceased. He held a business degree from UCLA, and worked as an executive for a company that sold computer software. He had married Joyce two years before Elizabeth had been born.

"Professor!" Scott's voice drew him out of the research he had been doing and he turned to look at the younger man. "Yes, Scott?"

"Logan wanted me to tell you that Kitty, Evan, and Rogue left before you made the announcement that we were to stay on the estate," Scott replied. "He's going after them."

Charles frowned deeply and closed his eyes in concentration, searching for the three students' unique mental signatures. He found them and refocused his attention on Logan. _**Logan, the students are about a half mile west of the estate, in a clearing in the woods.**_

_**I'm almost there already Charles. Sabretooth is definitely tracking them. I picked up his scent almost immediately after I crossed the stream he used to throw me off last time**__._

_**Be careful, Logan. Protect the children, please,**_ Charles pleaded with him, hating the feeling of helplessness he was feeling. He was responsible for all three students, and while they could handle themselves quite well most of the time, Sabretooth was a dangerous foe, and quite possibly out of their league, given that Logan couldn't even take him down.

_**No problem, Chuck. This time, he's mine**__…_the thought trailed off abruptly as Logan attacked. The feral rage that clouded Logan's mind forced Charles out of the mind rapport. When Logan fought, it was as if he became someone entirely different, and it was always difficult to maintain a link with the other mutant, but when he fought Sabretooth, there was no point in even trying.

Charles sighed. All he could do was wait for Logan to get back in touch with him, which would probably happen when he came back to the mansion. Logan despised telepathy, and even though he could easily think something at Charles and the Professor would probably pick it up, especially given their proximity to the manor, he wouldn't ever take that route, because of how much he hated the sense of someone being inside his head. He would tolerate it on occasion, but he would never initiate the contact.

Scott was still standing in the room, and while he waited, he glanced at what his mentor was working on. It looked like a bunch of research, and he assumed that it had something to do with the new mutant that the Professor had gone to find, until a familiar name caught his eye. "Summers? Professor, what is this?"

Charles turned to face him. "Just some checking I was doing into the mutant I went to California to recruit. Her name is Buffy Summers."

"Buffy?" Scott asked, pummeling his brain to try and remember if he had anyone named Buffy in his family. He didn't think so, and it was an unusual enough name that he should remember if he had.

"She's not related to you, Scott. I've already checked," the Professor told him. "It's just an odd coincidence."

"Oh." Scott was silent for a moment. "What's her power?"

"She's a telepath," Charles told him. "A powerful one too, I believe."

"Is she going to come to the school?" Scott wondered.

"I don't know, Scott. I'm still trying to convince her. I'll be going back to see her again at the end of the week. Hopefully by then, she'll have had a chance to think about it some more and…" he trailed off as he sensed Logan, Kitty, Evan, and Rogue approaching the mansion. "They're back." He moved his chair out of his study, Scott right behind him, to see Logan ushering the three teens inside, Sabretooth slung over his shoulder, unconscious. They all appeared to be unscathed…with the minor exception of Rogue, who had suddenly grown claws, fangs, long hair, and had extremely hairy legs showing through tears in her pants.

"Logan, what happened?" Charles asked.

"Porcupine here set a trap for Sabretooth," Logan growled. "Unfortunately, he didn't think it through, and they all could have been killed. I've already grounded them for the duration."

Charles nodded in agreement and fixed a serious look on all three of them. "I understand your wanting to help, but there are some things that you're simply not ready for yet," he told them sternly. "The other teachers and I will discuss it, and we'll let you know how long you're confined to the estate for."

"Yes sir." "Yes, Professor." "Sorry, sir." All three guilty teens murmured.

"Evan, Kitty, go upstairs," he ordered. After the two of them left, he turned to Rogue. "Rogue, are you all right?"

"M'fine," she growled, even her voice having been altered. "If I'd known this was going to happen, I never would've touched him."

Charles sighed. "Go join the others upstairs, Rogue, and get cleaned up." After the girl left, he turned to Logan, who was still holding Sabretooth. "For now…put him in the confinement area, old friend, and we'll discuss what to do from there."

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	23. Chapter 22: Corridors of the Mind

**Author's Note: ****Hey everyone! Here's another chapter for you, and I just want to thank everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Without all of your encouragement, I would have abandoned this story! I hope you enjoy this chapter!  
**

_**Chapter Twenty-two: Corridors of the Mind**_

_**"One need not be a chamber to be haunted, one need not to be a house. The brain has corridors surpassing material place." **_

_**- Emily Dickinson**_

_Xavier's study…later that same day…_

Charles stared at Logan in shock. "No. Absolutely not." Even knowing about Logan's somewhat blood-thirsty and vindictive nature hadn't prepared him for what he wanted to do to Sabretooth.

"If we don't, he'll keep coming back, Chuck, and the students will always be in danger."

"But if we kill him outright, Logan, we'll become no better than Magneto," Storm responded from her seat in front of Charles' desk.

"Indeed," Charles agreed. "We cannot set such a poor example for the students."

Logan growled softly, deep in his throat. The sound was eerily like that of Sabretooth, reminding Charles that for all their differences – Logan was a man of deep convictions and beliefs, who would fight for the innocent and defend mutant and ordinary human alike, while Sabretooth simply killed anything in his way – in many ways they were the same. He suspected that Logan would not be pleased to be compared to his nemesis in that way, so he refrained from saying anything to the other man. "He's a killer, Charles. Putting him down would save lives – and it would be a mercy."

"It's out of the question, Logan. I'll consider any idea that doesn't involve maiming or death, but I will not condone or permit cold-blooded murder."

"My blood wouldn't be cold while I was doing it," Logan protested before a glare from Charles quieted him.

The three of them sat in silence for a few minutes as they pondered the best way to handle the situation. The regular human community didn't know about mutants, so there would be no way that law enforcement officers could hope to contain Sabretooth in a prison – but it would be too dangerous for the students to try to confine him within the mansion. They could hold him here for a few hours – perhaps a day or two at most – but anything longer than that was inviting trouble.

Finally, Logan looked up at Charles. "You can use yer powers to change his memory, can't ya, Charles?"

Charles nodded. "Yes." His telepathy was strong enough to allow him to alter or remove memories, although he tried hard to use that skill only as a last resort. He didn't like playing with people's minds, since it felt like a violation of their free will. Of course, at times it was necessary to protect their secret. Most humans were not ready to know of the existence of mutants in their midst, and until the time was right, he occasionally had to purge the minds of the general public to keep the secret.

"Well, let's strand him, then," Logan said.

Ororo and Charles looked at him curiously, and Logan sighed before he elaborated. "Wipe his memory of our location and everything that happened today, and we'll take him in the jet and drop him off somewhere far away."

Charles looked thoughtful as he considered Logan's plan. After a moment, he realized that it was the best choice and nodded in agreement. "We'll probably need to leave tomorrow," he commented. "I can keep him unconscious with my powers, but I'll need some time to purge his memories, since I don't want to damage his mind."

"Pity," Logan muttered.

* * *

_A few hours later…_

"Charles, are you sure that you're going to be all right?" Ororo asked quietly as they approached the small confinement room where Sabretooth was being held. Even from several meters away, they could hear him roaring in frustration and calling out for Logan.

"It's a simple procedure, Storm," Charles assured her gently. "It's just somewhat involved, because I don't want to damage his mind."

"I'm going to stay." Storm said firmly.

"There's no need," Charles told her. "He'll be unconscious from the time I start until we drop him off tomorrow. There'll be no risk to me."

"I don't care," the weather witch replied. "I'm not leaving you alone with him."

Charles realized that it would be pointless to try to dissuade her and merely nodded as they arrived at the door to the confinement area.

"Logan!" Sabretooth bellowed again, the cry echoing down the corridor.

Charles reached up to the pad that controlled the door lock and keyed in the code that would open the door. The door slid open to admit them, and together they entered the small room.

The confinement area was only large enough to contain one mutant at a time. Sabretooth had apparently tried to escape, as the deep gouges on the titanium-plated walls attested, but he had been unsuccessful due to the network of energy beams that ran along the interior of the walls, ceiling, and floor.

When he saw them, Sabretooth lunged forward, only to be again be checked by the energy beams. He snarled angrily at them, his face truly feral and – if Charles hadn't had complete confidence in the energy beams that held him – murderous.

Charles shook his head and closed his eyes to find his inner focus, before he lowered his outermost shield and extended his thoughts to make contact with the other mutant's mind. In the peripheral areas of his mind he could also sense Ororo's worried thoughts, but he pushed them aside and directed his focus to Sabretooth.

Sabretooth knew he was inside his mind almost immediately, but he had no training in expelling a telepath from his mind. "Get outta my head!" he roared, moving to attack again – despite the energy field – only to collapse mid-lunge as Charles took control of his mind and forced him into unconsciousness.

Pulling back slightly to assess the other mutant's condition, he found Sabretooth to be deeply unconscious. Not enough to be dangerous to his health, but deeply enough that he wouldn't wake until Charles was ready to allow him to wake. He would stay that way until after Logan and Charles had dropped him off somewhere.

He nodded in satisfaction, more to himself than to Ororo, who was still hovering at his shoulder to protect him from the feral mutant, before he plunged back into Sabretooth's mind, looking for the memories that he needed to purge. The procedure to actually wipe the memories wasn't difficult, but _finding_ them could be, depending on how damaged Sabretooth's psyche was.

As it turned out…_very_ damaged. The feral mutant's mind was a chaotic tangle of thoughts, memories, and nightmares. Charles hadn't seen anything quite so damaged since the last session he had had with Logan, to help restore and heal his friend's mind, and compared to what he was seeing in Sabretooth's mind, Logan's was relatively simple in comparison. The biggest problem in Logan's mind was that there were huge blank places – the mental equivalent of the titanium walls inside Sabretooth's cell - where his amnesia had taken effect. It was slow going to try to pry those apart to release the memories hidden behind them, and thus far they'd only been slightly successful at restoring Logan's memories. They'd had much more success in getting the things that Logan _could_ remember to fall into a more logical order.

But in Sabretooth's mind…there was no sense or order to any of the things that he was seeing, and Charles found himself "wading" through bits and pieces of memory as he searched. Apparently, whatever had been done to Sabretooth to damage his mind in this fashion had been thorough, and painful, since the memories that he was looking for – of Logan's location, the existence of the school – should have been right on the surface as recent memories, yet they weren't.

Most of the thoughts that bombarded his highly trained mind held no relevance to what he was looking for. There were memories of past fights – some with Logan, but most with strangers that tended to dissolve in a wash of rage and blood-lust. Then there were fragments of memories – almost nightmarish, really – of what appeared to be a laboratory of some kind, with the cold, sterile, intimidating aura. Those memories were among the most fragmented, but there was one thing that lingered in each one he encountered. A dark, shadowed figure, always hovering in the background, but with a feeling of power and control that frightened even Sabretooth.

Charles found himself almost having to shove those memories away as he continued to search for the ones he wanted. Whatever had done this to Sabretooth's mind…it had been intense, and thorough, and apparently the effects continued to linger, since he couldn't seem to find a single intact memory.

One of those fragments loomed up in front of him, suddenly, and before he could block it out, it imprinted itself in front of his mental "eye" and he found himself viewing it as if he himself was Sabretooth.

"_Where ya goin' Runt?"_

"_Back off, bub. You don't want to get in my way," Logan snarled back, adamantium claws extended as he crouched in the corridor, ready to attack if necessary._

"_The Doctor will tear you a new one. Did ya really think you'd get out of here without bein' caught?"_

"_Not really," Logan admitted. "But that's okay with me…I'm always in the mood for a good fight."_

"_Where is she, Logan?"_

"_You wanna know, you're goin' to have to beat me in a fight –which ya've never done."_

The memory fragment faded and Charles resumed his search for the memories of the Institute, after making a note to ask Logan if he remembered anything about that particular memory. It was hard to know what would resurrect Logan's fragmented past, and – whatever that memory had been about – it had apparently been part of the reason that Logan and Sabretooth were enemies.

Finally, after what seemed like a small eternity of working through Sabretooth's memories, he found what he was looking for – the memory of seeing Evan with the camera his teacher had loaned him for his project, talking to Kurt just before the younger mutant vanished, and then the memory of tracking Evan that afternoon and ambushing him after school to see what was on that camera and seeing Logan pulling up to the estate's gates on the tiny video screen.

Applying a little more of his powers, Charles smoothly erased those memories, removing them from Sabretooth's psyche. It was a hard process to describe – altering someone's memory in this fashion. It took a telepath of extreme skill and power to even manage it – he suspected that, in a few years or so, Jean might be able to do it, and he also believed, at the moment, that his daughter would also have the ability, although the true strength of her powers remained to be seen.

However, the whole process of making someone forget – it wasn't the same thing as the "walls" that were in Logan's mind from his amnesia, since those could, in time, be broken down and the buried memories released, nor was it the fracturing that the rest of Sabretooth's mind was in to keep him from remembering. It was, in many ways, as if he was altering the mind's "clock" and turning back time so that it was as if those events never happened. But that wasn't exactly the best description of what he did either. It was much easier to modify a memory than to remove it completely, but if they wanted to protect the students, Sabretooth could not be permitted to remember anything about what he had discovered in Bayville.

Now that he had found the memories, it only took a short time to purge them from Sabretooth's mind, although he took additional time to make sure that no other lingering memories that could betray them remained – such as the fight on the lawn, and the fight when Sabretooth had ambushed the children outside the estate. It was better to be safe and take the extra precautions now, instead of having to do this again later.

Finally, he was convinced that he had found and removed everything that could possibly betray them, including Sabretooth seeing him when he had entered the containment room to do this. The mutant would be unconscious until they left him wherever Logan had chosen to, and Charles didn't need to be right in front of Sabretooth in order to wake him up. So, with those last waking memories removed, Charles slipped out of Sabretooth's mind and back into his own.

He blinked several times to refocus his eyes as he raised his head. He felt Ororo place her hand on his shoulder just before she spoke. "Are you all right? You've been…well… away?...for a while."

"Yes, I'm fine, Storm," he assured her before shaking his head. "Sabretooth's mind is even more fragmented and confusing than Logan's, and it took me a while to find what I was looking for. I suspected that that might be the case before I even started. I'm a little tired – it was hard work finding those memories, but it's nothing that a good night's sleep won't cure."

"You're sure, Charles?" Ororo asked, the concern in her voice not fading.

"I'm positive," he assured her. "All I need is some rest. Sabretooth won't be a problem, and Logan and I will be leaving in the morning to drop him off."

The white-haired mutant nodded and followed him out of the small room, waiting while he keyed the door closed and make sure it was locked, just in case Sabretooth somehow managed to break out of the artificial coma that the Professor had sent him into. As they moved towards the elevator that would take them up to the main levels of the mansion, she spoke again. "The students will be free to leave tomorrow, correct?"

"Evan, Kitty, and Rogue are grounded except for school," Charles reminded her. "But the others are free to go where they please after school." He paused as they entered the elevator together. "And Ororo, if the test results come…"

Ororo nodded in understanding. "I'll call you immediately on the jet's communication system and let you know what they are right away."

"Thank you, Storm. I wanted to thank you for everything that you and Logan have done the past few days so I could be with Elizabeth." He smiled wryly. "I would thank Logan, but I have a feeling that he wouldn't be comfortable with the idea."

Ororo shook her head gently and gave him a soft smile. "We understand, Charles. Your daughter is important to you and you would certainly want to find her and get to know her, considering what happened – even if she wasn't a mutant that we can't let Magneto find. I would be more surprised if you weren't interested in seeing her."

"That would never happen," Charles said adamantly. "Not after the way I lost her." The elevator came to a smooth, quiet stop and the door slid open. "Nonetheless, I appreciate the way the two of you have stepped up to help."

The continued down the hallway in the comfortable silence of two old friends, and as they walked, Charles lightly probed the minds of each of his students as they passed the rooms. Due to the late hour, he was pleased to note that they were all sound asleep. He knew that Logan would make one more late night check before he went to bed – as he did every night – but Charles wasn't concerned. The students had had a rather busy day, after all. No matter what they had been trained for, it wasn't every day that the estate was assaulted by someone as large and as mean as Sabretooth.

"Good night, Storm," he said quietly as he stopped at his own door. He pressed a button on the arm of his chair and the door swung gently open with a soft _click_.

She smiled at him once more, the dim light in the hallway reflecting off her snowy hair and lighting her face with a gentle glow. "Good night, Professor," she whispered before continuing down the hallway to her own room.

Charles watcher her enter and close the door before he steered his chair into his own room and pushed the door closed. Out of habit he checked the alarm panel next to the door – a habit that had become much more stringent since the night his daughter had disappeared – and saw that, as usual, the security grid was set on high alert. The automated defenses had been reset – and he had called the company that had installed the front gates so that he could get an estimate for the repairs and reinstallation since Sabretooth had destroyed them.

Satisfied that the mansion was as locked down as it could get at the moment, he turned away from the panel and moved over to his dresser to get his pajamas and robe. His room hadn't changed hardly at all in the time since Lizzie had died, and in fact this was the only room in the entire mansion where there was an image of his beloved wife – on the wall above the fireplace was a large, beautiful picture of the two of them on their wedding day. He had removed the rest of the pictures of the two of them together before he had opened his home to his students, not wanting to deal with questions about his wife from them – but this was the only room in the mansion where the others were not permitted to go, so he had left the large portrait-sized wedding picture in its place.

He glanced at the picture briefly on his way over to the dresser, and then, after he had removed his clothing from the dresser, looked up and caught sight of himself in the mirror. He paused and studied his reflection more closely.

In may ways, his reflection wasn't that different from the man in the wedding picture above the fireplace. He still had no hair, and his eyes were the same shade of blue. Oh, there were a few more wrinkles and stress lines, and his face was slightly more angular and chiseled than it had been nineteen years ago when he and Lizzie had married. But those were all things that could be explained by time's never-ceasing progression.

The most striking change, however, was in his eyes. In the years before Lizzie's death, he had been quietly content with his life, and his eyes had reflected the joy he had had in being first engaged and then married to Lizzie, and in teaching his students at the university.

But then Lizzie had died and some of the joy had gone out of his life. Elizabeth – his daughter - had given him a reason to keep living, but even her sweet, innocent presence hadn't been enough to completely ease the pain and loneliness that had resulted as a result of Lizzie's unexpected passing. But then she had gone missing and his world had been destroyed. There was no remaining joy left in his life, and when the authorities had called a halt to the search for his missing daughter – months after he had been cleared of any involvement in her disappearance – he had pushed away everyone he had cared about.

He hadn't spoken to Lizzie's parents in eighteen years, although they continued to periodically send him letters and cards in an effort to maintain some type of relationship with their son-in-law, whom their daughter had loved so much. Susan had hung on the longest, but eventually even she had gotten the hint and had stopped trying to speak to him. She was still in Bayville, still running the clinic that she and Lizzie had started together, but he hadn't seen or spoken to her either.

Of all of his friends and associates, the only one whom he had maintained some contact with was Moira MacTaggert, but only from a purely academic sense. Even the stubborn Scottish woman had learned that he didn't want to discuss anything personal and kept their relationship professional as they worked together on the genetics research that had fascinated both of them.

For eighteen years, the silence hadn't bothered him at all – but it was probably more than past time to try to mend those fences. Not yet, perhaps…but if Elizabeth Summers turned out to be his missing daughter, he would have to tell them…Lizzie's parents deserved to know their granddaughter, and Susan deserved to know her goddaughter.

Yes…as soon as he knew for sure and had convinced Elizabeth of that fact, he would get in touch with Susan and Lizzie's parents.

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	24. Chapter 23: Truth, By Heart

___Author's Notes: I'm back again, and I think most of you will enjoy this chapter, because some of the answers to your questions will be revealed! Special thanks to everyone who reviewed, I hope to hear from you again after this chapter!_

_**Chapter Twenty-Three: Truth, By Heart**_

"_We know the truth, not only by the reason, but also by the heart."_

_- Blaise Pascal_

_Sunnydale…Restful Peace Cemetery…Tuesday night…_

"Okay, Buff, what's been going on with you lately?" Xander's voice cut into Buffy's thoughts as they walked through one of the thirteen cemeteries that littered Sunnydale. Despite her best efforts, she hadn't been able to prevent Willow and Xander from joining her on her patrol that night, since she had avoided spending time with them all weekend while she was working with Jean and Dr. Xavier.

"Hmm?" Buffy looked up at her friend. "What was that, Xand?"

"You've been acting weird since that Xavier guy was here," Xander said.

"It's not like you to avoid us," Willow agreed.

"Yeah, Buffy. We're your bestest buds, but lately you haven't been there," Xander finished.

Buffy sighed. She really didn't want to discuss her telepathy or Dr. Xavier's certainty that she was his daughter with her friends. Not yet, anyway. At least Cordelia and Oz weren't here too. She wanted to think about things a little more, and she really wanted to wait until the results of the DNA test had come in and she could discuss it privately with Giles first.

If Dr. Xavier was right and he was her father, she would be almost obligated to tell him about being the Slayer. Of course, that had a risk all its own. He could handle mutants, but could he cope with vampires, demons, and annual apocalypses? She didn't want to find out that he was her father, only to have him abandon her the way her mother had when she'd learned the truth. No matter that she and her mother – Joyce - had made up – she couldn't go through that again.

Plus, telling him would ruin his life. He would have to take more care in protecting his students and himself, because although New York didn't have a Hellmouth, that didn't mean that vampires didn't hang out there. Angel had lived there for several decades before he had come to California, and he had assured her that there were plenty more, although they were usually masters, and there were fewer of them than in Sunnydale. Did she really have the right to inflict that on him? But at the same time, would it be fair to him if she didn't tell him and then met the fated end of each Slayer who had come before her? He had believed her dead once, according to what he had told her – could she really force him to live through that again?

Realizing that her friends were still waiting for her to answer them, she offered them a weak smile. "Sorry, guys. I just have a lot on my mind that I'm not really ready to talk about yet."

"B-but you always tell us what's going on," Willow said.

"It's that Xavier guy. He cast a spell of some type on you…or he's a hell beast! That's it! He's a hell beast, isn't he?" Xander declared.

A fiery, protective instinct welled up in Buffy. "No, he isn't!" she yelled. "Damn it Xander, he's my father!"

She froze as soon as they words were out of her mouth. _Crap! What did I just do?_ She had totally not meant to say that. For a moment she was tempted to run and leave the two of them to walk home, but the part of her that was the Slayer wouldn't let her. She couldn't leave two innocents to walk home through a graveyard on a Hellmouth.

Xander and Willow blinked in stunned silence as her words sank in. They stared at her, then at each other, and then back at her. Buffy braced herself for their reactions. This wasn't going to be pretty.

It was Willow who managed to respond. "Buffy, we've m-met your father. Your dad is Hank Summers."

Buffy fought the urge to groan at her rash words. When was she going to learn to check her tongue? "I mean, I'm not sure if he is or not. There's a chance he's my biological father."

Willow blinked several times. "B-but his only daughter was presumed dead by the authorities twenty years ago…" the redhead trailed off as her face grew as red as her hair.

Buffy stared at Willow for several seconds as she realized what had happened. "You…you didn't check up on him like you did with Ford, did you, Will?"

"Angel was worried about you," Willow offered in defense of her actions.

"All Angel does is worry about me," Buffy complained.

Before she could say anything more, Xander spoke, "Buff, how do you know he's your father?" thus proving that he hadn't been paying attention to anything she and Willow had said.

"I don't know for sure, Xander. All I know is what Dr. Xavier told me. Apparently – ugh, I really didn't want to get into this until I knew for sure, Buffy muttered before she sighed in frustration. "He claims that his wife, my alleged biological mother, died giving birth to me, and that when I was five months old I was kidnapped."

"How do you know he's telling the truth?" Xander wondered.

"I don't, Xander," Buffy replied patiently, although she really wanted to scream. "Yesterday we had a DNA test run, and we're waiting for the results to come back. He promised that he would tell me as soon as he knew something. I don't look like him, but he says I look almost exactly like his wife did when she was my age." She hesitated for another moment, but finally decided to just spit it out. "There's also the fact that he's a telepath…and so am I."

Now Xander _really _looked confused. "Nuh-uh. Yours is from the demon."

It was Buffy's turn to shake her head. "You're wrong, Xander. Angel and Giles figured out that I was naturally telepathic, apart from being a Slayer, and Giles is looking into the possibility that my Calling suppressed my telepathy until the demon unlocked it."

Willow nodded in agreement. "Human telepaths are really rare, Xander. Ms. Calendar had some interesting books on the subject." She looked closely at Buffy. "Have you figured out how to control it yet?"

Buffy nodded. "Dr. Xavier was here all weekend helping me. I've got enough control at least that I'm not picking up everything from everyone around me, and I've actually had two whole days without hearing anything from anyone."

Willow looked thoughtful. "It's never been proven that something like telepathy is hereditary – but it is an incredible coincidence that both you and Dr. Xavier are telepaths when the gift is so rare."

Buffy had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from saying anything about mutants. For one, that was a variable that her friends didn't need to know about right now. From what Dr. Xavier had told her, the only people who knew about it were the people who needed to know. Secondly, she didn't want her friends to treat her like she was any more of a freak than her Slayer powers made her.

"We're still waiting for the test to come back," Buffy reminded them. "Dr. Xavier could be completely wrong."

"But you don't think so," Willow observed.

Buffy hedged. "I – I don't really know what to think."

"Yes you do."

Buffy sighed and thought about it before she tried to put it into words. "Well –" Her Slayer-senses suddenly tingled, just before a vamp leaped at them from behind a nearby mausoleum. "Move!"

Willow and Xander jumped aside and Buffy snapped her leg up in a quick, yet powerful kick that caught the fledgling across the face, snapping his head back hard.

Unfortunately, the vamp – fledgling or not – recovered quickly enough to backhand her. Buffy sent him a look that only a severely pissed-off Slayer could manage. "Didn't your mother ever teach you it wasn't nice to hit a girl?" Kicking out again, she knocked him off his feet, yanking out Mr. Pointy and following it down. A cloud of dust rose up seconds later from the point where the stake impacted. "Guess not."

She paused for a moment to make sure there were no other vampires lurking around before she glanced back at her friends. "Sorry about that, guys. Fledglings have absolutely no respect for people having a conversation."

Willow touched her friend on the arm. "What do you feel about it, Buffy?"

"I think it's incredibly rude of them," Buffy said. "I mean, here we are, having an important conversation, and then…" she trailed off. "Oh, it was possible that you were talking about how I feel about Dr. Xavier and the whole father thing?"

Willow smiled. "It's possible."

Buffy sighed and groped for the words. "My dad – Hank, I mean, he's a great guy or at least he was when I was little. But ever since my mom and I moved here, he hasn't really been much of a dad," she admitted. "A weekend here and there when he can fit me into his schedule doesn't make for a great father-daughter relationship."

"But you don't know this Xavier guy really," Xander pointed out, for once surprisingly logically.

"I know, Xand," Buffy agreed. "But it's not like he abandoned me because he didn't want to be a dad. He told me that I was his only child, and if the DNA tests prove him right, then I was kidnapped."

"That's what the newspaper articles Angel and I found said," Willow inserted. "It was huge news – not just the kidnapping, but the investigation and the hearings…"

"Hearings?" Buffy asked.

Willow blushed bright red again. "Well…you see…"

"Spit it out, Wills."

Willow sighed. "I found some articles that described a series of hearings that were held about six months after the kidnapping. The District Attorney in New York and the FBI were trying to point the blame at Dr. Xavier for the abduction. Apparently all they had was circumstantial evidence, and when his lawyer countered with a series of character witnesses, the judge found that there was no basis for them to charge him with kidnapping."

Buffy blinked. "He was a suspect?"

Willow nodded. "For about six months, yeah. The articles didn't have a lot, and if the FBI had any evidence that they didn't show, it wasn't listed in the case file that I hacked."

Xander and Buffy both blinked at her in surprise. "You hacked the FBI?" they chorused.

"Um…yes?"

"Cool!" Xander exclaimed.

"What evidence was there?" Buffy asked, deciding not to comment on her friend's computer invasion. Normally she'd have been proud of her best friend, but right now she had too much on her mind to try to process that.

"Umm…not a lot, like I said. There was something about his being the only fingerprints found, the alarm system not being tampered with, no ransom ever asked for, and some other suspicious deaths in his family," Willow said. "There weren't a lot of specifics, but back then they weren't as computerized as they are now, so it's possible the lead agent had more information than he put in the file, or he kept his own notes."

Buffy didn't know what to think about that. Dr. Xavier – her alleged father – had been a suspect in the kidnapping of his own child – her? She couldn't process that concept. She needed to shelve it and ask him about it once they knew what the results of the test said. If it turned out that he _wasn't_ her father, well, she never needed to think about it again. "Anyway," she managed after a moment, steering the conversation back to the earlier topic. "The fact that he's spent all these years looking for me – for his daughter – it says a lot about him."

Both of her friends looked thoughtful as they considered what she had said.

"Look, guys," Buffy added. "We still don't know for sure, and even if he _is_ my father, I'm not planning on leaving Sunnydale. I can't leave the good old Hellmouth unguarded, and especially not with Faith having gone to the dark side – so it's not like I'm going to be moving to New York. So, for the time being, can we not talk about this? As soon as I know something, I'll let you guys know too, ok?"

Her friends looked relieved at that, and Buffy breathed a sigh of relief that they could shelve the conversation for a while.

Will smiled and Xander nodded. "Okay, Buffy. We'll do this your way."

* * *

_The X-jet…the next day…_

"We're nearly to our destination, Logan," Charles commented as he studied the flight readouts. We'll be over the drop zone in two minutes."

Logan nodded and unbuckled his seatbelt so he could go to the rear compartment and unstrap their companion, who was still unconscious. The restraints were – like the energy beams in the mansion's containment area – an additional precaution since Sabretooth was such a dangerous mutant.

Logan dragged the unconscious Sabretooth forward to the hatch as Charles was reducing altitude and putting the sleet jet into a hover. Once the computer had control, he hit the button to open the hatch/ramp. As he unlocked his chair from the clamps that held it in place behind the controls and kept him from sliding all around the cabin when they accelerated, Logan walked to the edge of the ramp and dumped Sabretooth out of the plane into the snow bank of the tundra below.

"Logan, change places with me, please," Charles said quietly.

"Right, Charles," Logan replied, re-entering the craft and moving towards the second set of controls while Charles maneuvered his chair to the top of the ramp.

He hadn't particularly agreed with Logan's choice to strand Sabretooth in the cold wilderness of northwest Canada, but Logan had pointed out, with ruthless logic that there would be little threat to people since the area was largely unsettled, the hunting was good, so he wouldn't starve, and they were thousands of miles from Bayville, so it would take Sabretooth a good, long time to make his way back east – if he ever did. Hopefully the mind wipe that Charles had done would keep Sabretooth away from Bayville permanently.

Closing his eyes, he reached out and made contact with Sabretooth's unconscious mind. It took only seconds to rouse him, and in the first few moments while he was coming to, Charles could sense Sabretooth's bewilderment and confusion.

He pulled back and nodded to Logan, who quickly closed the hatch and angled the jet into a fast climb into the clouds before Sabretooth had a chance to notice them. The other mutant was careful, however, to keep the jet as level as possible so that Charles could get his chair back to the front of the plane and get it secured in the clamps.

"Let's head home, Logan," Charles said as he fastened the last clamp before he sat back and turned his attention to his friend.

"Sure thing. We should probably make it back about the time the runts make it home from school," Logan observed as he set their course for Bayville.

"Yes, I'm glad that we'll be back in time for their afternoon training session. I'm interested in seeing how they'll do since I missed the sessions from this weekend."

"They did pretty well," Logan admitted. "'Specially since I gave them a scenario they'd never seen b-" The beeping of the radio cut him off mid-sentence.

Charles tensed immediately. This could be the news that he so desperately wanted – the confirmation that his daughter was alive and living out in California – but it could also crush those hopes forever if it turned out that Buffy Summers was not Elizabeth Anne Xavier. That fear – the uncertainty it caused – froze him to his seat and he found himself unable to reach for the button that would acknowledge the call.

"Yer not gonna answer that, Chuck?" Logan's voice was surprisingly quiet and understanding.

"I – I can't, Logan," Charles admitted through a tight throat. "If it is the results of the best and they show that she's not my daughter…"

Logan sighed and, before Charles could stop him, activated the radio. "'Ro, is that you?"

"_Logan? Is Charles there?"_ Ororo asked.

"Yeah, he's listening, go 'head."

"_Charles, the mail just arrived and there was a letter from the United States Laboratory Testing Services. Is that what you were waiting for? It looks extremely official_."

Charles couldn't speak for a moment, but he finally managed to get the words that were on his tongue out through the dryness and tightness in his throat. "T-that's it, Storm. W-" Inwardly he cursed himself for his foolishness before he cleared his throat with difficulty. "Would you open it please?"

"_Just a moment, Charles,_" she replied. There was the sound of paper being torn and unfolded, and then several seconds of silence followed as Storm apparently looked for the information that their mentor wanted. Charles held his breath, and as he glanced at Logan, he was amused to note that the other mutant also seemed to be waiting with equal intensity and curiosity.

"_Charles, I'm afraid I don't understand what this means," _Storm's voice came back over the radio.

Fortunately, there was a solution for that. "Feed it into the computer and send us the information over the link-up," Charles told her, unlocking his chair from the clamps and steering it over to the computer that was positioned mid-way down the main compartment.

"_Feeding it now…and sending the uplink,"_ Ororo confirmed.

Charles hesitated for only the briefest moment before activating the computer and confirming that the uplink was being received. A few seconds later there was a beep before the screen filled with an image of the documents that Ororo had fed into the computer back at the mansion.

Charles studied the screen, his eyes tracking quickly back and forth across the display. After a long moment, he let out a quiet sigh and closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair.

"Chuck? What's it say?" Logan asked, but didn't receive an answer.

"_Charles?_" Ororo's voice was equally curious as she waited for a response on the other end of the open radio link.

"Charles?" Logan's voice was quieter this time, but when he still received no response he pressed two buttons on the console. "Engage autopilot." A beep from the computer confirmed the order, and the computer took control of the jet as Logan stood and walked over to where Charles sat.

"Charles?" Logan asked again, reaching out and putting a hand on the psychic mutant's shoulder. "Are you all right?"

Charles opened his eyes and looked up at Logan, who was shocked to see tears forming in the corners of the blue orbs.

"I've found her, Logan. After all these years…all the agony, and the grief…the guilt…I've found her. Buffy Summers…is my Elizabeth, my beautiful, beautiful daughter."

**

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**Don't forget to review! Lurkers, come out and play! (Hey it worked once...)**


	25. Chapter 24: Stabilizing Relationships

_**Author's Note: Hey everyone! I just want to say thank you for all the fabulous reviews that I received for the last chapter! I honestly never expected this many reviews from this story, and the response I have received, as well as the support, has completely blown my mind. Without all of you, this story would not have happened.**_

_**Chapter Twenty-Four: Stabilizing Relationships**_

_"So much of what is best in us is bound up in our love of family, that it remains the measure of our stability because it measures our sense of loyalty."_

_- Haniel Long_

For several seconds following Charles' soft declaration, there was silence in the jet. Tears of joy were tracking silently down the father's face, while Logan was at a loss for words – a condition he _never_ suffered from. In the years he had known Charles Xavier – enough for them to be close friends, but not enough for him to know everything about the telepath's past – he'd never seen him like this. In many ways, Charles was a larger than life figure to Logan. The psychic had offered him a home when he'd been a wanderer, helped him to restore some of his past and his sanity, and given him a purpose in life. It was hard to know how to repay that debt.

Of course, the debt between them – even if it was only on Logan's side – wasn't enough to keep him from taunting the other man, or making an occasional (okay, frequent) snide remark, but it was never in seriousness, and Charles knew that as well as Logan did. It was simply part of the Wolverine's personality – and it would never change.

After what seemed like a small eternity, Charles tore his eyes away from the computer screen that he had been staring at and pulled himself together. He reached for a handkerchief that was inside his suit jacket and used it to dry his eyes. He took a deep breath before he turned to face Logan. "Logan, when we arrive back at the mansion, I'd like for you to begin prepping the jet for a trip to Sunnydale immediately. I will be going inside just long enough to pack a bag and get the test results from Storm."

"_I'll have them waiting for you, Professor,"_ Storm said over the radio, having never disconnected after uploading the test results to the jet. "_If you'd like, I can even pack a bag for you and meet you in the hanger."_

Charles considered the offer for a moment. "Thank you, but no, Storm," he replied. "I have some very specific things that I want to bring with me this time. It'll be easier for me to get them myself than to try to tell you where to find them." He paused for a moment, and then continued. "One thing that you could do, however, is have the students assembled in the living room. It's time I told them what's going on."

"_Are you sure, Charles?"_ Ororo's voice was gently concerned.

"They need to know," he said firmly. "I'll be spending a great deal of time in California if Elizabeth will not come to New York, and even if she does, I need to try to figure out why she was taken and how she ended up out there. I suspect Mrs. Summers will have some of those answers. The students deserve to know why I'll be splitting my time between them and California until everything is resolved."

"_I'll make sure they're assembled_," Ororo promised. _"Is there anything else?"_

Charles thought about it. "I don't think so, Storm."

"_All right. We'll see you back at the mansion. Institute out."_

Charles flipped off the radio before he leaned back in his chair wearily and closed his eyes. The relief of knowing the truth – it was overwhelming and exhausting. For eighteen years, not knowing if his daughter was alive or dead – it had pressed down on him like a tangible weight and affected every part of his life, from his attitude towards others, to the way he interacted with his students, to his decision to leave New York University and stop teaching so that he could devote himself to looking for his daughter and to his genetics research. Now, how would things change since he knew that she was alive?

"You ok there, Charles?" Logan's voice cut through his thoughts.

"Just – relieved, and tired, Logan." Charles said, opening his eyes and looking at the other man. "I've been waiting for this day for eighteen years, and now – I don't know how to react or what I should do next. All I know is that I have to go to my daughter."

"If it means anythin', I'm happy that things are workin' out for ya," Logan said awkwardly. He wasn't used to being nice to others. He would help when someone was in trouble, or do his part to teach the students how to survive, but he never commiserated with anyone, or reached out to them in sympathy.

"It means a lot, Logan," Charles assured him. "Now I just need to figure out what I'm going to tell the students."

* * *

_Bayville…the Xavier Institute…later…_

Storm was waiting for the students at the front door when they arrived home from school. Scott, Jean, and Kurt came in happy and ready to enjoy their afternoon, while Even, Rogue, and Kitty slunk in, resigned to being confined to the house for the near future because of their involvement with Sabretooth. They all paused when they saw the white-haired mutant waiting for them – a rarity that was quite outside the usual routine.

"Students, once you've put your things away, I need you to assemble in the living room. Professor Xavier has something important to tell you as soon as he and Logan return. I expect them back any minute."

Surprised murmurs met her announcement, and the youths hurried to do as they'd been instructed. It wasn't a usual occurrence for them to assemble for an announcement from the Professor. Normally, he simply used his telepathy to tell them all at once, no matter what they were working on.

"Do you have any idea what this is about?" Scott asked Jean as they headed up their stairs towards their rooms.

"Maybe it has something to do with Elizabeth – the new mutant he went to recruit in California," Jean said, carefully not mentioning what she knew about the Professor's daughter.

"Yeah, about that…why'd you and Storm come home on Sunday and leave the Professor out there?" Scott questioned.

"She didn't really want to come to the school, but Professor X thought that she should. He wanted to stay a few more days to convince here, but he needed me to get back for school – and he didn't want to leave Logan alone to watch the rest of you for too long," Jean hedged.

"Huh. I can't imagine anyone not wanting to come here," Scott said thoughtfully. "I mean, Rogue didn't at first, but she's come around – and hopefully the rest of the Brotherhood will come around too."

Jean shrugged noncommittally as she opened her bedroom door and stepped in so she could put her things away, while Scott continued down the hall to his own room. She wondered if the Professor was really going to tell the others the truth – and how they would react to the news if that's what this announcement was all about.

She had just put her books on her desk when the smell of sulfur and a _poof_ sound alerted her to Kurt's presence.

"Would you like a lift, _frauline_?" the blue-furred mutant asked with a charming smile.

"No, but thank you Kurt," Jean said with a smile of her own. "I'll see you downstairs."

Another _poof_ and a faint cloud of sulfur heralded her housemate's departure. Jean shook her head and smiled to herself. Kurt was a charmer – and at times a joker – but either way he was a good friend.

She headed for the door, but paused as she sensed the Professor's return. His telepathic signature was unmistakable to her powers. _**Professor? Is everything all right?**_

The genuine relief and constrained joy in his mental voice when he answered told her everything that she needed to know. _**Everything is fine, Jean. Thank you for asking.**_

_**I'm glad that you found her at last, **_Jean told him quietly. _**Does she know yet?**_

_**Not yet. I will be leaving after I speak to everyone.**_

_**We'll be waiting for you, sir,**_ Jean said before she closed the link between them.

* * *

Charles entered the living room to find Scott and Jean sitting next to each other on the couch. Kurt was perched on top of the fireplace mantle, Evan was leaning against the wall, while Kitty and Rogue had commandeered two armchairs from the far side of the room and dragged them forward to join the group.

"Welcome home, Professor," Scott said, the greeting quickly shared by the rest of the team.

"Thank you," Charles said quietly. He looked around at his students. In many ways, they never ceased to amaze him, and he was proud of everything that they were doing. Their mutant powers (and their control) were increasing daily, and all of them had wonderful grades in school. Even more, they had thoroughly embraced the goal that had become so prominent in his life – the idea that mutants and humans could live together in peace. It wasn't time yet for the rest of the world to know about the mutants that walked among them, but when the day came, he had hopes that his students would be able to prove that they could use their powers to benefit mankind.

"I am afraid, however, that I will be leaving again within the hour," he continued after a moment. "I felt that it would only be fair to explain the situation to you before I leave."

"Does this have anything to do with the new mutant you went to find?" Evan asked.

"Yes it does," Charles replied. "Her name is Elizabeth, and she's a telepath." He paused for a moment, trying to gauge their attitudes and receptiveness. "She's also my daughter."

Complete shocked silence filled the room at that announcement. Charles didn't need his telepathic powers to know what his X-Men were thinking this time. It was plainly written on their faces.

"There's a great deal that I still can't tell you, my X-Men, but for the moment, all you need to know is that she had been missing for eighteen years, Now that I've found her, I'm going to be spending a great deal of my time in California, teaching her to use her powers and getting to know her."

"Why not just bring her to the school, Professor?" Rogue wondered.

"There is nothing I would like more, Rogue, and I am working on that," Charles told her. "Unfortunately it is not that simple. Elizabeth is about to graduate high school, and at the moment she doesn't want to leave California. So I'll be making several trips back and forth. Logan and Ororo will be supervising your training sessions, but I'll be in close contact with them, and when I am here, I'll be working with all of you individually. If there are any problems, I will return immediately."

"We understand, Professor," Scott said for everyone as they nodded in agreement. "You need to be with family. If you need us to do anything, let us know."

"Thank you, Scott. Thanks to all of you for your understanding and support," Charles said quietly. "At the moment, I need all of you to put your full effort into your training and your studies." He smiled at all of them. "If anything does arise that would require your aid, I will not hesitate to ask you for it."

The finality of his tone told the students that that was all he needed from them, and taking it as a dismissal, they all rose to their feet and left the room, still in a shocked and stunned silence.

Charles steered his chair out of the living room and into his study. He went over to his desk and reached into the drawer that held the secret compartment. Triggering the release, he reached inside and removed the photograph of himself and his infant daughter, the velvet-covered box, and another small wooden box with a simple latch on the front.

Laying the items in his lap, he closed the secret compartment and the desk drawer before he opened the file drawer and extracted two files. The first was the file that had only Elizabeth's name stamped across it, while the second had the words "Official Report" written across the tab.

He thought for a moment, before deciding that he had everything that he needed from his study. Turning his chair, he left the room and headed for the elevator that would take him to the upper levels of his mansion. He just had to pack his clothing and wait for Logan to finish prepping the jet. Then…he could go to his daughter.

It took only a few minutes for him to pack his clothing, along with one last, small item that had been resting in the drawer of his bedside table for eighteen years. As he closed the drawer, his eyes fell on the phone resting on the table. For a moment, he hesitated, wondering if he should make the call that he really needed to make.

_Its past time…this must be done! _His thoughts pummeled him mercilessly, and he knew that he at least had to put things into motion, even if they wouldn't come to fruition for a while yet. He had been delaying this too long, and now that he knew that his daughter was alive, he had no good excuse to continue to delay. After several seconds, he reached out and picked up the headset, before dialing a number that he knew by heart.

It rang twice before the other end was answered. _"Bayville Women's and Pediatric Clinic. How may I help you?"_

"May I speak to Dr. McGee, please?"

"_One moment please while I connect you." _Soft classical music filled his ears as the receptionist put him on hold. After a moment, he identified it as Tchaikovsky's "Dance of the Reed Flutes" – one of Susan's favorite pieces.

"_This is Dr. McGee."_ His old friend's voice came over the line suddenly and Charles had to swallow back a wave of emotion at the sound. Susan and Lizzie had been best friends – and she had been his friend too, but he had pushed her away.

"Susan…its Charles. Charles Xavier. How are you?"

"_Charles!"_ Her voice was shocked and confused. "_I – I wasn't expecting to hear from you…um…how are you?" _Susan, usually so calm and confident, was rattled.

"I – I'm doing well, actually," he told her softly. He bit his lip out of nervousness. He had screwed up so badly with Susan – and Moira and Lizzie's parents. How did he go about fixing this? "Um – are you doing well?"

"_Yes,"_ she said quietly. "_It's – it's been a long time, Charles. What can I do for you?"_

"I – oh, Susan, I've been a fool, and I owe you an apology. I had no right to shut you and Moira out the way I did, and I would like to make amends."

"_Charles – this is sudden – it's been eighteen years,"_ Susan said hesitantly.

"I know, Susan. It's just…" he sighed. "I have to leave in a few minutes on a trip for a – personal matter. I'm not entirely sure how long I'll be gone, but when I get back, will you meet me somewhere for coffee – and so we can talk?"

Silence filled his ears for a long moment, and he wondered if she had hung up on him. It would only be fair after the way he had treated her. He held his breath, waiting for her decision.

"_All right, Charles," _she finally said quietly. "_Call me when you get back, and we'll make the arrangements."_

A profound wave of relief rushed over him at her acceptance. "Thank you, Susan. I'll be in touch soon, and…I'm sorry for everything. I know that doesn't even begin to cover what I did, but I hope that it can be a start…and a promise for the future."

Silence again, before she replied, so faintly he almost missed it. "_I missed you, Charles…but I understand, and…I forgive you. Good-bye."_

The line went dead with a soft _click_. Charles sighed as he replaced the receiver. It was a start – and once he had told Elizabeth the truth – if she wanted anything to do with him – he would be able to tell Susan that her goddaughter was alive, healthy, and a strong and beautiful young woman.

The intercom buzzed just then. _"The jet's ready when you are, Charles."_

Charles pushed the button on the phone to acknowledge the call. "Thank you, Logan. I'll be down momentarily." Turning from his bed, he picked up his suitcase and headed out of the room. His daughter was waiting.

* * *

_Sunnydale…Buffy's house…_

Buffy was busy washing dishes and setting out stuff to get ready for dinner when the phone rang. Her mom –Joyce – ugh, the uncertainty was starting to drive her crazy – was still at the gallery, so Buffy was trying to do what she could to make it easier to have dinner ready when she got home in a little while.

Moving over to the phone, she lifted the receiver off the hook and tucked it between her shoulder and her ear. "Hello?"

"_Elizabeth? This is Dr. Xavier."_

Buffy froze for a moment before she put the dishcloth and the plate she was drying down so she wouldn't drop them. "Hello, Professor. How are you?"

"_I'm quite well, my dear. I was calling to find out if you could meet me tonight. I'm en route to Sunnydale."_

"The test results?"

"_Came in this afternoon,"_ he confirmed. "_I'd like to show them to you in person, if you would meet me."_

They were positive! Buffy knew it instinctively. If they had been negative, there wouldn't have been any reason for him to come out to Sunnydale. Her heart raced for a moment, but her voice was surprisingly calm when she managed to respond. "What time is your plane due? I can meet you at the airport."

"_I'm not flying in on a commercial flight, my dear. Could you meet me at the hotel where I stayed last time?"_

"Um, sure. What time?"

"_Eight o'clock?"_

"I'll be there. Should I meet you in the lobby?"

"_That would be fine,"_ her father's – her father! – smooth voice replied. "_I'll see you then?"_

"D-definitely."

"_Until later, then…Elizabeth." _She definitely wasn't imagining the note of caring and fondness in his voice as he said her name.

"Later," she agreed before she hung up the phone and sank weakly down to sit on one of the tall bar stools.

Professor Xavier…was her father. There was no other explanation. Joyce and Hank Summers were not her parents – and she had missed out on her entire life with a father who loved her…

She wasn't Buffy Summers. Her name – her real name – was Elizabeth Anne Xavier.

But either way, she was still the Slayer. She had to decide what she was going to tell her father – and she needed to tell Giles. The few days to think about the choice that could have lain ahead of her hadn't given her any clarity as to whether or not she should tell her father the truth.

Finally, she got up and moved to finish her dinner preparations. She was in a daze, barely aware of what she was doing. What was she going to say to him when she saw him in a few hours?

Joyce entered the kitchen with a smile on her face. "Hello sweetheart. Did you have a good day at school?"

Buffy only stared at her wordlessly. Did she really even know this woman? Had Joyce Summers kidnapped her from her real father? If so…why?

Joyce frowned when Buffy didn't respond. "Buffy, is everything all right?"

_That's not my name!_ Buffy wanted to yell. _My name is Elizabeth Xavier!_ With an effort, she kept herself in check and managed to respond somewhat normally. "Um, yeah. Just tired. Wesley's been working me really hard during our training sessions the last couple of days."

"Oh. Should you go out on your patrol tonight then?" Joyce asked as she started to make dinner from the ingredients that Buffy had laid out for her.

"If I don't, people will die," Buffy said. "I'll be all right."

"All right, then. Dinner will be ready in about half an hour if you want to go work on your homework."

"Got it all done today. Snyder assigned me detention during my free period all week, remember?"

Joyce frowned. "Right." She sighed. "Well, I'll just finish up here and you –"

"I'm going upstairs to call Willow," Buffy supplied.

"All right, dear."

* * *

_Giles' apartment…same time…_

The doorbell rang.

Giles walked through his living room and opened the door cautiously. It was too early for vampires, but one never knew, especially in this town. To his relief, standing on the front step was a delivery man. "Yes?"

"Rupert Giles?" the man asked.

Giles nodded and released the wooden stake he'd been holding in his pocket.

"I have a delivery for you sir, over-nighted from London, England. Will you sign for it?"

"Of course," Giles said, taking the scanner from the delivery man and signing it quickly. He handed the scanner back and accepted the package, which was large, thick, and heavy, boxed up in an overnight box. He bid the delivery man a good day, then took the package over to the coffee table in front of his sofa and put it down before taking a seat.

On top of the box was a plastic envelope with a white envelope inside. On the front of the envelope his name was written, along with the words "Open First". Reaching over the back of the couch, Giles picked up his letter opener and slit the plastic, pulling out the smaller envelope and slitting that open as well. Reaching inside, he pulled out a folded piece of stationary. Unfolding the letter, he could see that it was hand-written and hastily scrawled in black ink.

_Rupert,_

_I did what you asked. I found everything that the archives had, and was able to cross-reference some other articles and histories as I was compiling the list. Some of it I was only able to get very basic information, you'll have to check the Diaries for the rest._

_Please don't ask me to do anything like this again. Our debt is settled. While I do agree with you, there's nothing more I can do without arousing suspicions. I'm sorry, but I hope this helps._

_- Roberta_

Giles frowned, hoping that he hadn't put his friend at risk by asking her to access the Council archives. He knew she could get in trouble if she had been caught getting information for him, and that was the last thing he wanted.

Putting aside his concerns, knowing that there was nothing that he could do for Roberta while he was in Sunnydale, he reached for the box and ripped open the tape that held it closed. Inside, the package was wrapped in heavy brown paper, and felt like many pages, all loosely bound together, well over a ream of paper.

After he unwrapped it, he found that the top page was a slim file with the name Dr. Charles Xavier, PhD, stamped across the tab. He flipped open the file and found that it contained a very slim dossier, which he scanned quickly, before turning his attention to the rest of the papers that Roberta had sent him.

* * *

Buffy left her house a few minutes before eight and headed up the street towards downtown Sunnydale. Mr. Pointy was tucked up her jacket sleeve, but she wasn't really expecting any vamps this early.

Despite what she'd told Joyce, she hadn't called Willow before dinner. Instead, she'd gone up to her room and dug out her photo albums, slowly turning pages as she relived memories of her life in L.A. and Sunnydale. But it was a lie. She had lived the memories, they were real enough – but what had she missed out on by not being raised with Dr. Xavier? Would she have known about her telepathic powers all along? Who would have been her best friends if she'd lived in New York? Would Merrick and Giles have still been sent to her when she was Called?

Even through her preoccupation, a corner of her awareness was still devoted to paying attention to her surroundings – not only so that she could find her way to the hotel, but so that she would be aware of any vamps or demons in need of a stake.

But it was still too early for most of Sunnydale's supernatural population to be out and about, and she made it to the Ramada without incident.

The Professor was waiting for her in the lobby just as they'd arranged. His face was anxious and excited and, telepathic shields or not, the bond she shared with him tingled as she approached him.

"Professor, it's good to see you again," she said, forcing a calm formality she didn't feel into her voice. What she really wanted to do was grab him in a fierce hug and not let go – but she couldn't, not until she heard the truth from his lips and saw the evidence herself.

"Elizabeth, I'm glad you could meet me," he replied, equally formally – although again, she could hear the emotions he was trying to suppress in his voice. "Should we go up to my room?"

She nodded, wanting to know _now_ but knowing this was something that neither of them wanted to discuss in public. She followed him back to the elevator and they rode up together.

It seemed a short eternity before the professor was unlocking his door to admit her, but in reality it was only about two minutes. He went over to his suitcase that was sitting on the stand in the corner and removed an official looking manila envelope.

"Elizabeth, as I mentioned on the phone, the test results arrived this afternoon," he began. "I – well, see for yourself." He handed her the envelope and she reached in and removed several pieces of paper.

The first few pages were charts and graphs that made no sense to her, but it was the bottom page that interested her the most. She scanned the page which was written in some very formal, legalistic code, looking for the information that she needed, but not finding it. She looked up at him. "What – what does this mean? It doesn't make any sense to me."

"Elizabeth…you are my daughter. The test proves it. There can be no doubt." Her father's voice was choked with emotion now. "After eighteen years, I've found you."

Buffy felt her own eyes tearing up, and she did the only thing that made sense. She held her arms out and fell into her father's arms, feeling them close around her as they embraced. She didn't care that she barely knew this man – he was her father, and he loved her. That was enough for her.


	26. Chapter 25: Getting to Know You

_Author's Note: Nothing major today...just wanted to thank everyone for the great reviews, and hope that you send me more this time around!_

_**Chapter Twenty-five: Getting to Know You**_

"…_**a daughter is a daughter all of her life."**_

_**-Irish Proverb**_

_Bayville…_

"It's hard to believe. I mean, the Professor has a daughter? I think I was expecting to hear _anything_ except that."

Kitty paused in the hallway as she heard Scott's voice coming from the older boy's bedroom. She knew that, with the exception of herself and Jean, the other students hadn't known anything about their mentor's daughter, so it was bound to be a surprise.

"Yeah, man. And some of what he said…it didn't make sense. How could he have not known about her for eighteen years?" Evan added. "I think there's more that he isn't telling us."

_Oh, that does it…_Kitty turned on her heel and headed straight towards Scott's room. She knew the truth, and she wasn't about to let the Professor's request stop her from doing what she could to protect him. If he ever learned that his students were starting to doubt him, it would shatter him, given the stress he'd been under.

Scott's door was closed, but that wasn't even an obstacle for her as she phased through the wall into his room. "What are you doing?" she demanded, putting her hands on her hips as she glared at Scott, Evan, and Kurt.

Scott turned to look at her through his ruby-quartz glasses. "Don't you know it's polite to knock, Kitty?"

"I'm less worried about that than I am about the fact that you're sitting here doubting the Professor after everything he's done for you," Kitty shot back. "You'd better be glad that he's not here to hear this…you'd destroy him."

"We do not doubt the Professor, Kitty," Kurt protested. "We're just talking about the news he gave us. I mean, a daughter? That's big news."

"Yeah, girl," Evan added. "And then all of a sudden he just ups and leaves for California, and he's pretty much told us that he's turning us over to Auntie O and Logan? I thought he was committed to helping us, and leading this team."

Scott turned on his friend. "Evan, what are you saying? The Professor isn't abandoning us."

Evan scoffed. "Yeah, right. C'mon, Scott, do you really believe that? He refuses to tell us practically anything about her, just that he has a daughter, and he's going to be leaving for an unknown amount of time, and "whenever he's here" he'll be working with us. I don't know about you, but that sounds like he's abandoning us to me."

"How can you be so stupid?" Kitty cried. "Like, don't you get it? He told me everything! His daughter was kidnapped when she was a baby. That's why he didn't know where she was, and he thought she was dead all this time!"

All three boys narrowed their eyes at her – at least, Evan and Kurt did. She wasn't sure about Scott, since his glasses prevented her from seeing his eyes. "What do you mean he told you everything?" Kurt wondered. "Why wouldn't he tell us?"

Kitty groaned silently. There was no help for it. She was going to have to explain everything – her teammates wouldn't understand her trying to keep the Professor's secrets now that she'd said too much. "About a week or so ago, I saw him leaving the mansion and heading into the forest. I was curious, so I followed him. There's a small cemetery on the edge of the property, and that's where he was going. When he realized I was there, he asked me to stay and talk to him, and that's when he told me. I promised him I wouldn't tell anyone, since he still wasn't ready to talk about it. Then, when Cerebro located her, I was conferencing with him about my individual sessions."

"Why would he be going to a cemetery?" Scott asked. "Kitty, you're not making any sense."

_Ooo…_Kitty thought. She was making this worse. "His wife – his daughter's mother – is buried out there. He goes out there a couple of times a year to talk to her, and the day I was out there with him was the anniversary of the day his daughter was kidnapped. There's a headstone out there for his daughter too, but there's no date of death listed, because he wasn't sure she was dead."

Her news shocked the others. "The Professor was married?" Kurt asked.

"How did we not know all of this?" Evan wondered. "I mean, my folks have pictures of the two of them up all over the house. Why doesn't the Prof?"

"He didn't want anyone to know," Kitty reiterated. "Her loss hurt him, and he didn't want us questioning him about it. Look, I told him I wouldn't say anything, but you guys gotta understand. He, like, hasn't seen his daughter since she was five months old. Now he's found her again – why _wouldn't_ he want to go out to meet her and get to know her?"

All three boys seemed to be thinking about this. After a moment, Scott nodded. "You're right Kitty. We're being stupid." He reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Thanks for telling us."

"Just don't tell him I told you," Kitty pleaded. "He doesn't want anyone to know yet, and he still has a lot of unanswered questions – that's why he couldn't tell you anything more. He wanted to find more information."

All three of them nodded. "Okay, Kitty. Thanks," Scott repeated. "We'll give him some time and let him tell us the rest when he's ready."

Kitty nodded and turned around, walking back through the wall. Scott took a more mundane route, leaving his room via the door. Kurt was about to teleport out, but Evan grabbed his arm. "Kurt, wait…I know what Scott said, but I think there's still more to this than Kitty is telling us. Will you help me?"

Kurt looked uneasy. "Evan…we really should trust the Professor. He's never given us a reason not to."

"Sorry, man…I just can't." Evan turned away from Kurt for a minute. "Look, Kurt…the Prof's been like my new dad, even though my parents only live about an hour away. I want to trust him, but…I don't like the idea that he's gonna abandon us now that he's found this long-lost daughter, and I really don't believe that's the whole story. I just know there's something more to this."

Kurt sighed and looked between the door and his friend. "I – I'll help you, man. What'd you have in mind?"

* * *

_Sunnydale…_

Despite the comfort of her father's arms, it didn't take long for Buffy to realize what she was doing, and she pulled back abruptly. She knew next to nothing about this man, and yet here she was, hugging him with a desperation that she'd never hugged her mother with, even when she'd come back from L.A. after running away.

"I – I'm sorry, I didn't mean –"

Charles was dumbstruck at her apology. Hugging his daughter for the first time in eighteen years…it was a wonderful sensation. He could have stayed like that forever. "Elizabeth, no…don't apologize. I will never object to hugging you. I love you more than you can possibly imagine. I've waited eighteen years to hold you like that."

"B-but, we don't…we don't really know each other."

Charles sighed. She was right. For all that they were related – the DNA test had proved that, they didn't know each other, and the fact that they had acted so spontaneously...

"It's all right, Elizabeth. If you need more time, I understand," he told her softly, even though it broke his heart to do so, when all he really wanted was to grab her into his arms again and whisk her back to New York and never let her go.

Buffy bit her lip and took another step or two away, putting a little distance between her father and herself and trying to regain control of herself. They knew the truth now…but what did it really change? She was still the Slayer, and she was still trapped in Sunnydale. She couldn't leave the Hellmouth unguarded, but now she knew who her father was.

And there were still a lot of unanswered questions. Why had she been taken from her father? Who would have done such a thing?

"Now that we know, we need to tell Mom, err…I mean," Buffy stammered as she realized what she had said. No matter what the truth about her birth was, it was hard not to think of Joyce Summers as her mother after the woman had raised her for eighteen years. She only hoped that her father wouldn't be angry with her slip of the tongue.

Charles smiled sadly. "Elizabeth, I have no objections to you calling Mrs. Summers your mother. I can't expect you to call a woman you've never met by that name, even if she is your birth mother."

The generosity of her father surprised her. She wouldn't have expected that from him. "It's just…I know it must hurt you to hear me refer to someone other than my birth mother by that title," Buffy replied softly. She knew it was hurting him, because somehow – through their telepathic bond? – she could feel the pain when she called Joyce Summers her mother.

Charles nodded. There was no point in refuting her words. If he lied to her and she found out, he would destroy any trust that he managed to build with her. "Yes, it does. But I would never ask you to stop calling the woman who raised you by that title. It wouldn't be fair – it would be selfish of me – to ask you to give up the bond that you have. If there is ever a time that you feel comfortable calling your birth mother by that title, I will be glad to hear it, but until then, I understand completely." He hesitated a minute. "In fact…would you rather I call you Buffy?" Internally he winced at the thought of calling his daughter by that nickname, but if that's what she answered to…

His daughter thought about it for a moment. "In front of my friends, yes. They don't know my real name is Elizabeth. But it sounds…nice…when you call me Elizabeth."

Charles smiled at her words. "I named you after your mother. Her full name was Elizabeth Anna, and when you were born, I named you Elizabeth Anne, to honor her."

Buffy smiled back. "I've always liked my name. It's just…Elizabeth's kind of a common name…" she shrugged. "It used to confuse my teachers, trying to keep all of us straight, so when one of Mom's friends nicknamed me Buffy, it stuck."

Charles nodded in understanding. "Elizabeth, I want you to understand something. As much as I want you to come home with me to New York, I won't force you if you don't want to. You're eighteen, and legally you're an adult. I can't claim custody of you away from Mrs. Summers."

"Dad…" she paused, loving the way that word sounded for some reason, and judging by the joyful expression that crossed his face, he liked how it sounded too. "It's not that I don't want to…but…right now, I can't. My life is so complicated…" She paused for a moment, trying to understand what she was sensing from her father.

Charles frowned. "Complicated?" He didn't like the sound of that. He knew that her newly emerging telepathic powers could make things difficult with her friends and the other people around her until she learned full control, but the way that she said that…it seemed like there was something more.

_Should I tell him?_ Buffy wondered, debating furiously with herself. In a way, he had a right to know that any night she might be killed doing her duty to protect the innocents of Sunnydale, but at the same time, she didn't want to drag him into the horrors that were part of her world. She couldn't do that to him. "I have…a lot of emotional baggage that I come with. That isn't going to change, and it's not something that I can share with you."

"Elizabeth…you can tell me anything. You're my daughter. Nothing will make me turn away from you," Charles told her, trying to project all the sincerity he felt into his voice. "I am not going to turn my back on you or abandon you."

Buffy bit her lip hard. "Dad, you don't know how much that means to me. And one day, I'd like to tell you all of it. But it's not just my secret, and until I know for sure that I can trust you, I can't."

If anything, his frown deepened at that. "Elizabeth, are you in some kind of trouble?"

She laughed, but it was dry and ironic. "When am I not?"

"Elizabeth…"

"No, Dad. I can't tell you anything more. Not now."

Never in his life had Charles been more tempted to go against someone's wishes and violate their free will. His daughter had some kind of terrible secret, something that he – somehow – instinctively knew he need to know, and she wouldn't tell him. Her telepathic shields were still rudimentary, despite the progress that she had made. He could go into her mind and find out what she was keeping from him, and if he did it correctly, she would never know that he was there.

But he couldn't. If he did that, he would destroy any chance of a relationship with his daughter. He had taught her how to shield her thoughts so that she could protect herself – and he knew from personal experience how traumatizing it could be to have no control over your own mind. That was why he had so stringently learned how to control his powers and how to protect his mind. It was why he had learned how to make his shields strong enough that he almost never needed to fear an assault on his mind.

He loved his daughter – and he would not do anything that would jeopardize their fragile, fledgling relationship. But there was nothing that could prevent him from simply watching and waiting. He was a scientist and he had perfected the act of observation. In time, with enough exposure to his daughter, he might very well be able to piece together her secret, and then he would address the topic with her again. In the meantime, he would drop the subject. "All right, my dear." He paused for a moment, before he turned back and pulled something from his suitcase. "I have something for you."

"Ooh…presents!" Buffy cried, her eyes gleaming for a moment, catching him slightly off guard.

She seemed to sense his reaction and quickly paused and cleared her throat. "Sorry…at heart, I'm a California valley girl."

Thinking about Kitty, who was also prone to some moments of "valley girlishness" brought a small smile to his face. He had a feeling that his daughter and Kitty were going to get along just fine once they met.

He moved his chair closer to her. "I thought you might like to see this," he told her, handing her a small, framed photograph.

Buffy took it from him and turned it over so that he could see it. It was an image of her father, younger, holding a tiny bundle in his arms. The background appeared to be that of a hospital ward. "Is this…me?" She sank down to sit on the bed, gazing at the picture – at her father.

He looked…sad…in the picture. Compared to the way he looked now, there wasn't that much difference as far as his features went, but it was in his eyes and in the soft smile on his face. It was a sad, heartbreaking smile.

Charles nodded. "That was taken about two weeks after you were born, when they took you out of the incubator."

"Incubator?" Buffy asked, looking up at him.

"You were born two months premature, Elizabeth. For several days after you were born, the doctors weren't sure if you would live. No one could figure out why your mother went into labor so early, and they couldn't ever figure out what killed her. I was so afraid for you…and heartbroken over your mother's death. She – was the love of my life. I think I loved her from the moment I first met her in our freshman biology class at college."

Buffy hesitated, uncertain about what she was about to ask. The bond between them was telling her that her father's emotions were changing rapidly, from joy to sadness, to confusion, to frustration...but she needed to know. "What was my mother like?"

Charles started in surprise, not having expected her to ask that question quite so soon. He would have thought that she would have wanted more time to adjust to the idea of being his daughter, and would want more information about him before she started asking questions about Lizzie. "I loved her very much, Elizabeth. You look so much like she did at your age, and from what I already know about you, you're a lot like her in other ways. She was kind, and compassionate. Every time she smiled, her face just lit up, and she had such a joy for life…" he trailed off as he thought about his beloved wife.

Lizzie had been his entire world for so long, and he still regretted that they hadn't married sooner. They had both agreed that it would be better if they waited to marry, but now…

"She loved children, which is why she pursued pediatrics as her medical field," he continued after a moment. "She was so happy when she found out that she was pregnant, and she loved you very much, even though you hadn't been born yet." He reached into his suitcase again and extracted the velvet-covered box he had taken from his desk. "She would have wanted you to have this."

Buffy took the box from him and opened it, gasping as she realized what was inside. On one of the finest gold chains that she'd ever seen was a beautiful pendant. It was in the shape of a delicately wrought heart, made of gold, and surrounded by small filaments of silver that formed the shape of rose petals. The golden heart had the name "Elizabeth" engraved on it in flowing cursive letters.

"I gave that to Lizzie after we had been engaged for a year," Charles told her softly. "She put it on, and never took it off for eleven years. I – I almost had it buried with her, but I finally decided to keep it to give to you when you were old enough." He reached out and took the box from her, extracting the necklace and then moving over so he could reach behind his daughter and put it on her.

She was already wearing the cross that Angel had given her the night they met, but she pulled her hair aside and allowed her father to fasten the necklace around her neck. His fingers skillfully worked the delicate clasp, and a moment later the pendant was secured, the heart coming to rest just below the hollow of her throat.

Her father backed off and looked at her, and she could see that his eyes were starting to fill with tears. "God, Elizabeth…if only your mother could be here to see you now…she loved you so much…and I know that if she had been forced to make the choice to give her life to save yours, she would have made it without hesitating, even though she had never met you."

Buffy felt her own eyes tearing up as her father described the mother that she would never know. As much as she loved Joyce...now that she knew the truth about who her parents were, she wished that she had known her real mother. She sounded like a wonderful person. But she had her father now, and she could get to know her mother through him. It wouldn't be the same as meeting her in person, but it would be enough.

After a moment, she looked at her father. There would be time to discuss things later. Right now, though…right now they both needed answers. It was obvious that her father loved her dearly; she had seen that from the moment he had confessed his suspicions that she was his daughter – so how had she ended up in California as Buffy Summers? "What – what happens next?"

Charles sighed. "Now we talk to your – Joyce," he corrected himself after a moment. While he couldn't object to Elizabeth calling Joyce by the name of mother, he couldn't bring himself to do it. To him, Lizzie was the only person that would be his daughter's mother.

"I – Dad, I can't believe that she had anything to do with it. I don't understand any of this, but my mother would never hurt anyone – and she would never be a part of any kidnapping."

"I'm hoping that is the case as well, Elizabeth," he told her gently. "It is possible that she knows nothing, but she's the best place to start. She could be entirely innocent. Perhaps she simply adopted you, and I just haven't been able to find any paperwork to prove it. But she'll at least have enough answers to tell us where to look next." He looked at her seriously. "I don't know who took you, but I am going to find out, because I want justice for what I have gone through for the last eighteen years."

Buffy looked at her father's serious face and nodded slowly. "All right. She's at home now…we'll go and talk to her."


	27. Chapter 26: Finding the Truth

**Author's (shocked) Note**: OMG! I am completely blown away by the responses I received for the last chapter…and I must say! Thank you all so much. Because of you, this story has now received over 550 reviews! I am tipping my hat to all of you who have reviewed on both **Twisting the Hellmouth** and ff net – and especially to _Taeniaea_, who was the 250th reviewer on ff net, and to _shadowMD_ who was the 300th reviewer on TTH. WOW! As a reward, here's a new chapter for you…my muse decided to cooperate today. *barely manages to upload before fainting in shock*

**Author's 2****nd**** Note: **For those of you who participated in the Rhyming Reviews on TTH…I hope you enjoyed the responses I sent you! Some of you are very clever – my hats are off to you!

_**Chapter Twenty-Six: Finding the Truth**_

"_What would it be like to communicate from a part of your own self that is absolutely free from self-consciousness - that is fearless, uncorrupted, and passionately interested in the truth?"_

_- Andrew Cohen_

_Buffy's house…_

As they reached Buffy's driveway, she was grateful that they hadn't run into any vampires on the way from the Professor's hotel. For once, the supernatural community seemed to be cooperating with her – although she didn't really count on that to last. She wondered if she should call Angel and ask him to take her late patrol that night – this discussion with her mother had the potential to go all night, and her father wouldn't understand it if she slipped away around midnight to wander the streets after she had told him that it was dangerous in Sunnydale at night.

She helped her father get his chair up the porch steps before she reached for her keys. She was really dreading this discussion with her mom – Joyce. What would she do if it turned out that Joyce had been involved in kidnapping her from her father? Even more…how would Joyce react to the news that Dr. Xavier was her father?

She started to put the key into the lock, but then paused and withdrew her hand to sink down onto the porch swing.

"Is something wrong, Elizabeth?" Charles asked, sensing her anxiety.

"I – I'm really not looking forward to this," Buffy admitted. "I mean…if she had something to do with this – if she's been lying to me my whole life…how do I deal with something like that?"

Charles' heart tore at the anguish in his daughter's face. As much as he loved her and had wanted to find her again, what they were about to do could end up hurting her very badly. If her illusions about the woman who had raised her were shattered…

"Elizabeth…if you want, I'll speak to her alone, and then let you know what I find out," Charles said quietly.

"No. I need to do this. I _need_ to know the truth, I just don't _want_ to," Buffy said quietly before she stood and unlocked the front door, pushing it open.

Joyce was just starting up the stairs when Buffy entered the house and held the door open. "Buffy? What's going –" she paused as she caught sight of the Professor entering the house behind Buffy. "Dr. Xavier? What are you doing here? It's a pleasure to see you – but I thought that you had gone back to New York."

"I did, Mrs. Summers," Charles agreed. "I just flew in to Sunnydale this afternoon. I had some more things to discuss with Buffy. And now, I'd like to talk to you about something very important, if you don't mind."

Joyce turned and started back down the stairs. "Of course, I'll be glad to talk to you, but it's rather late, and it is a school night. Could we meet tomorrow and –"

"No, Mom. It has to be tonight," Buffy said.

Joyce nodded and started to head for the kitchen. "I'll get some tea and we can sit and talk –"

"That's not necessary, Mrs. Summers," Charles told her gently.

"Alright, if you're certain that you don't want any," Joyce said turning again and heading for the living room. She took a seat on the couch and waited for Buffy and Charles to join her.

Buffy waited for her father to precede her into the room, before she stepped in and took up a position in front of the doors. "Mom, we –" she trailed off. She couldn't do it.

Charles felt his daughter's reluctance to interrogate the woman who had raised her, so he decided to spare her. "Mrs. Summers, I'm afraid that the last time we spoke, I didn't tell you the entire truth about the reason I was here." He steepled his hands and rested them against his chin for a moment. "I am interested in bringing Buffy to my school in New York, but not just because of her grades or her SAT scores. She's a very special young woman, more than you know."

Joyce frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

"Buffy has a very special gift. Because of an anomaly in her genetic code, she is what some of us refer to as a mutant."

Joyce stared between him and Buffy. "I – I don't understand. Buffy, does this have anything to do with your –"

"No, Mom. This is something completely different," Buffy interrupted her before Joyce could say anything about her Calling. "What Dr. Xavier is trying to say is that the reason he knew I was here was because of my new powers."

"Powers?" Joyce asked weakly.

"Many mutants, when their mutant gene activates, develop a special skill or ability. In Buffy's case, she has developed telepathy," Charles explained. "I have ways of tracking newly emerging mutants, and when I discovered her, I came out here to offer her a place at my school, where I teach young mutants how to control their abilities so they can live in peace with the rest of mankind."

"Buffy…I…I thought we were done with this…" Joyce said, dumbstruck.

Charles frowned. Did Joyce know something? She didn't seem…surprised to learn that Elizabeth was a telepath. If anything, she seemed shocked about something else. And what had his daughter prevented her from saying? _'This is something completely different.' _Did that have something to do with whatever secret his daughter wouldn't tell him?

"Mom – I….there's more," Buffy said. "There's a secret that _you've_ been keeping from _me_, and I need to know the truth."

Joyce frowned and a puzzled look came over her face. "Secret? What secret are you talking about, Buffy? I don't have any secrets from you."

"Mom, I know that I'm not really your daughter. You don't have to hide it from me any more," Buffy said softly.

"Not my…Buffy, what are you talking about?" Joyce asked, standing up and looking between her and Dr. Xavier. "Dr. Xavier, I don't know what lies you've been filling my daughter's head with, but I want you to leave, right now."

"He's not going anywhere Mom, and he hasn't been lying to me. He's helped me discover the truth, but we need more answers from you."

"Mrs. Summers, allow me to explain, please," Charles tried, sensing that the two women were about to dig in and defend their position no matter what. "When I detected Buffy's mutation, I was shocked to discover that there was a possibility that she was _my_ daughter. I came out here, hoping to convince her to come to New York, to learn more about her, so I could find out once and for all if I was right."

"Why would she be your daughter?" Joyce demanded. "That's ridiculous."

Charles shook his head. "Eighteen years ago, my wife Elizabeth died giving birth to our daughter. When my daughter was five months old, she was kidnapped from my home in the middle of the night, and disappeared without a trace."

"I'm sorry to hear that, but just because Buffy is eighteen doesn't mean that she is your daughter," Joyce said. "There are thousands of eighteen year old girls in this country, not to mention the world."

"No, but the fact that she looks almost exactly like my wife, and the fact that she's telepathic are two very key details," Charles agreed. "You see, I am also a mutant – and a telepath."

"It's not possible, Dr. Xavier! I remember giving birth to her!" Joyce said. "I brought her home from the hospital!"

"Mom…what you're saying can't be true," Buffy said. "Dr. Xavier and I had a DNA test administered, and it proved that I was his daughter."

Joyce looked as if Buffy had just slapped her. "You…what?"

"We had a DNA test run, and it proved that I am Professor Xavier's biological daughter," Buffy repeated. "I didn't know which way it would turn out…but we had good reason. When he was trying to help me control my new powers, we telepathically bonded – and he told me that eighteen years ago he had a telepathic bond with his daughter….it was enough that Giles and I both felt we needed to have the test."

"Mrs. Summers, please, understand something," Charles said. "I have no intention of taking Elizabeth away from you. She's eighteen and she's a legal adult. If she wants to come with me to New York, I will welcome her with open arms – but I cannot and will not force her to choose between you and me. But I have to know why my daughter was stolen from me – and since you are the one who raised her, you must have some knowledge of that. That's all that I am asking for, is the information that you have that will lead me to the ones who took her."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Dr. Xavier. Buffy is my daughter. I gave birth to her and I brought her home from the hospital two days later," Joyce replied firmly.

Buffy frowned at her mother's tone. She knew all too well, that her mother was deadly serious whenever she used that tone of voice. "Dad…what is going on?"

Charles' frown matched his daughter's. "I'm not sure, Elizabeth." He studied Joyce for a moment, before he addressed her. "Mrs. Summers, we seem to be at a bit of an impasse. Your memories are telling you that Elizabeth is your daughter, yet I have scientific evidence that proves the opposite. Something is not right about this situation." He looked contemplative again as he considered the problem at hand.

While he thought about it, Buffy moved over to Joyce's side and wrapped an arm around her to hug her. "Mom, I'm not doing this to hurt you. There were just too many unanswered questions about why Dr. Xavier showed up so unexpectedly, and when he told me his suspicions and then we somehow linked…I needed to know what was going on."

"So you went behind my back because you didn't trust me, Buffy?" Joyce asked, tears in her eyes. "You honestly thought that I was lying to you about being your mother?"

"No!" Buffy exclaimed. "I didn't want to believe it. I agreed to the test because I knew it was the only way to prove Dr. Xavier was wrong – but it turns out that he was right." She pulled her mother close. "There's just too much going on in my life right now, Mom…I couldn't deal with another huge issue, and agreeing to the test seemed to be the quickest and easiest way to settle everything once and for all."

She fell silent and allowed her mom to think about what she was saying. She simply held the older woman, and wondered what they were going to do now. How could they reconcile the DNA test results with her mother's memories?

Charles watched his daughter holding the woman who had raised her, and for a moment his heart ached, as it had every time Elizabeth had called Joyce 'Mom' during the conversation. He understood why she was doing it, intellectually at least, but it still hurt to hear his daughter refer to someone other than Lizzie as her mother. Lizzie had given her life for their daughter – and it seemed as if his daughter couldn't even bring herself to acknowledge that fact out loud.

If only Lizzie could be here… more than anything, he wanted to see his family together again, but that would never be. Lizzie was gone, but he had his daughter back again.

After a moment he mentally shook himself. Why was he dwelling on this? They had a more interesting problem on their hands, namely trying to find out why Joyce's memories claimed that she had given birth to Buffy, when it was scientifically impossible. He had never been with any other woman except Lizzie, and there was no other way anyone could have gotten hold of his DNA to impregnate Joyce. So somewhere along the line, something odd had happened to confuse the situation.

"Mrs. Summers, would you object to allowing me to try something?" he finally asked.

She raised her head and looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"As I mentioned, like Elizabeth, I am a telepath. I can read minds and influence the memories of other people. Since the conflict between the truth of what happened to my daughter and your memories is apparently hidden in your mind, will you permit me to examine those memories?"

"How?"

Charles moved his chair a little closer. "Using my powers, I can go into your memories and see them. If something was done to you to make you believe that Elizabeth was your daughter, I may be able to determine what it was – and thus find out how Elizabeth came to be raised by you. You won't be harmed in anyway, I promise."

Joyce bit her lip and looked between them. "You think someone tampered with my memory?"

"It's possible," Charles said gently. "For a highly trained telepath, it is quite an easy thing to do. Fortunately, there are only a handful of telepaths around that are capable of doing so. Will you permit me to see what I can find out?"

* * *

_Bayville…Xavier Institute…late night…_

"Evan, I really don't know about this," Kurt said, his tail nervously swishing through the air. "It seems like a really bad idea."

"C'mon, Kurt. I need your help, and you already told me you would," Evan said quietly. "We'll just go in, look for anything that might give us a place to start, and then leave. Everyone's asleep except for us, so as long as we're quiet, no one will know what's going on."

"But going into the Professor's room?" Kurt asked. "That isn't right. It's the only room in the house that he's asked us not to go into. He doesn't come into ours without an invitation."

"Why would he never want us to go into his room unless he was keeping something from us?" Evan countered. "Look, Kurt, I want to trust him, but I just can't right now. I need to know the whole story." He looked seriously at his friend. "Are you with me or not?"

"Oh…" Kurt moaned softly. "Fine, but you have two minutes and then I'm leaving. If we don't find anything, that settles it, and we wait for the Professor to tell us the rest."

"All right, deal," Evan agreed. "Now, c'mon, poof us in there."

Kurt's face showed his displeasure, but he nodded and grabbed Evan's arm. "Here we go…" With a moment of focus, he willed the two of them to vanish from Evan's room and reappear in the hallway outside the Professor's door.

"What are you doing?" Evan hissed. "We're supposed to be inside, not out in the hall."

"_Ja_, but I need to know where the door is – it's easier to go past a door for the first time if I'm standing right in front of it." Another moment's thought and they were inside a room that neither of them had seen before.

"Great job, Kurt!" Evan exclaimed in a whisper. "Come on, let's look around."

"Two minutes, and then we leave," Kurt reminded him.

"I know."

Together, they moved slowly through the room. It was a very spacious bedroom, with a huge balcony behind a set of beautiful etched glass French doors, a stone fireplace along one wall, and beautifully carved oak furniture, including a four poster bed that had a metal framework attached to the posts, matching end tables flanking either side of the bed, and a dresser with a mirror mounted above it.

Kurt's keen eyes, naturally sensitive to allowing him to see in the darkness, peered around the room until they fell on a picture that was hanging on the wall above the fireplace. _"Was ist das?_"

Evan turned to look at what his friend had found. "What are you looking at Kurt?" he hissed.

"_Das_…the picture. It's the Professor…" Kurt whispered, moving closer. It was Professor Xavier, many years younger, but there was no way that the man in the picture could be mistaken for anyone except Charles Xavier. Even though he was standing so that he was facing the camera, he was quite obviously not looking at the camera, but at the woman standing beside him.

Evan studied the portrait on the wall. "You're right…but who's the woman?"

The woman in the picture was amazingly lovely. She had sun-kissed blonde hair that flowed down her back in waves that seemed to ripple and flow, even in the picture. Her eyes were a bright, brilliant green that sparked with happiness and love, set in an oval-shaped face with high, arched brows. She wore a white wedding dress with a lacy veil that seemed to float like a cloud around her face, only enhancing her beauty.

The Professor's left hand was joined with the woman's, revealing rings on their fingers – a solid gold band for the Professor, while the woman wore two – a pearl and diamond one, and a slender, plain gold one. His other arm was wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her close to him.

Kurt peered at the small brass plaque that was attached to the bottom of the gilded frame. "Charles and Elizabeth Anna Xavier, May 23, 1981," he read. He turned to look at Evan. "I think… this must be the Professor's wife…just like Kitty said."

* * *

_Sunnydale…Buffy's house…_

"What…what do I have to do?" Joyce asked, nervously.

Before Charles could answer, he caught sight of the expression on his daughter's face, which was one of doubt. _**Elizabeth? What is it?**_

Buffy was surprised that her father chose to communicate with her using his powers rather than just asking her out loud, but then she realized that he didn't want to say anything in front of Joyce. She licked her lower lip before she concentrated on lowering her shields the tiniest bit, and tried to frame her thoughts in a way that would allow him to hear her. _**Are you sure this is a good idea, Dad?**_

Charles smiled as his daughter used her powers to reply to his inquiry. He still hadn't taught her the most efficient way to use her powers to communicate in this fashion, but the fact that she had figured out how to do it on her own was more proof that she was learning control much more quickly than he had expected – and for a telepath, control was vital. He still remembered the days when his powers had been running wild until he figured out how to control them.

As a child, when they had first manifested, he had been prone to what everyone believed were devastating migraines that were inducing hallucinations. It wasn't until several years later that he had realized what was happening – after both of his parents and his step-father Kurt Marko had died. Once he had finally understood what was happening to him, he had devoted himself to finding a way to control his new abilities, with mixed success. It wasn't until after he reached high school that he was able to stop the thoughts of other people from impinging on his own.

But that wasn't important. What was important was finding out what Joyce Summers knew. He could talk to his daughter about her accomplishment later. Right now he needed to soothe her worries so that he could explain what he needed Joyce to do. _**It's perfectly safe, Elizabeth. All I want to do is to look at her memories of your birth. To a telepath, a false memory will have a distinctive feel to it that a non-telepath would never notice. If any of her memories have been altered in anyway, I may be able to find it, and if so, I may be able to remove the false memory to expose the real ones.**_

After a moment, his daughter nodded slowly before she faced Joyce. "Mom, you can trust him. He won't hurt you."

"No, I promise I won't hurt you, Joyce," Charles agreed. "All I want is to look at what you remember, and if there is anything in your memory that has been tampered with, I might be able to fix it so that the real memories are there."

Joyce still looked nervous, but she slowly nodded. "What do you need me to do?"

"Sit down, please, and try to relax," Charles told her gently. Once Joyce was sitting on the couch again, he looked at his daughter. "Elizabeth, could you move the table aside please, so I can sit in front of her?"

Buffy nodded and rose to her feet, picking up one end of the coffee table and shifting it aside before she moved the other end, leaving enough room for her father to park his chair in front of Joyce.

"You're perfectly safe, Joyce," Charles assured her quietly before he leaned forward slightly. "Just relax and close your eyes. Try to think of those memories. Concentrate on them as much as you can. I need you to take me to them." He reached out and held his hand a few inches from Joyce's face. "The more you can focus on them, the clearer they'll be to me."

Lowering his outermost shield slightly, he reached out with his powers and lightly touched Joyce's mind. _**That's it, Joyce…take me back to what you remember…**_

* * *

_Bayville…_

"Kitty was telling the truth?" Evan whispered in surprise. "The Prof was married?"

"Apparently," Kurt replied quietly. "Is this enough evidence for you?"

"It's a start," Evan said thoughtfully. "At least it gives us some idea of where to look for more information."

"What do –" Kurt trailed off as the sound of footsteps coming down the hall caught his ears. "Uh oh, we've just run out of time!" Before Evan could protest, he seized the other boy's arm and _poofed_ them out of the Professor's room and back into Evan's, which was at the complete opposite end of the hall from the Professor's and the stairs.

And fortunately, if someone did go into the Professor's room for any reason, the smell of sulfur that Kurt left behind when he 'ported would dissipate very quickly.

As they materialized inside Evan's room, Kurt turned on his friend. "Did you learn what you wanted?"

"Not entirely, but it gives me a place to start," Evan replied. "I just wish I wasn't grounded, now."

"That's your own fault. I'm going to bed," Kurt said, before he teleported out of Evan's room and back to his own, still feeling horribly guilty about what he had just helped Evan do. Spying on the Professor…it was wrong after everything that the man had done for them.

As soon as the Professor came home, he'd admit what they'd done, and accept the punishment for it. Out of everything that they'd been given, the one rule the Professor had for allowing them to live in his house was that they never enter his bedroom without his express permission, unless it was a life or death emergency. And now, he and Evan had just broken that one rule, and why? Because Evan was suspicious and paranoid for no reason?

"_Was habe ich getan?"_ Kurt murmured softly as he slid into his bed, wondering what the Professor would do when he found out.

* * *

"**Push, Joyce!"**

**Charles opened his eyes and looked around at his surroundings. He was inside a hospital delivery room, and just in front of him was Joyce, lying on the table, her face sweaty and pinched with pain, while all around her doctors and nurses helped her through the delivery of her baby. He moved through the room easily, unhampered by his wheelchair as he was in reality. Here, in a place that was purely mental, his physical handicap did not limit him at all.**

**For a moment, a pang pierced his heart as he remembered the night that Lizzie had gone into labor, how he had been trapped in the waiting room, unable to be with her while Susan and the rest of the doctors worked to save his wife and their child. The waiting…the uncertainty…**

**He shook off his own memories and refocused his attention on the scene, watching not the people around Joyce, but using his powers to try to sense if this was a true memory, or if it had been created or modified in any way. The ability to create and modify memories required a very highly – trained telepath, especially if the memories were intended to be permanent. Temporary memories were much easier to create, and easiest of all were simple, subtle suggestions.**

"**Once more, Joyce…this is the last time! Now…push!" the doctor called.**

**Joyce's face crumpled in pain and stress as she fought to release her baby. A moment later, a child's piercing wail echoed through the room as the baby drew its first breath.**

"**Congratulations, Joyce," the doctor exclaimed. "It's a girl!"**

**Charles frowned at that and moved closer as an odd sensation crossed his mind, so fleeting, he wasn't sure that he had actually sensed it. In no way was telepathy an exact science, and many times he had to rely on his own impressions and feelings, especially when he was looking into the memories of another person.**

**There was also the possibility that Joyce had lost focus for a moment in the physical world, which was very likely, since she wasn't a trained telepath – and the older a memory was, the harder it could be to recall every single detail about a particular event.**

**He needed to see it again, to see if he received the same sensation at that same moment…**

_**Joyce, you're doing marvelously, but I need you to go back. Take me back to the moment right before the doctor announced that it was a girl,**_** he thought, reaching out with his powers to connect with Joyce's consciousness, to guide her through what he needed her to do.**

**There was an odd wavering, and a moment later things shifted ever so slightly. **

"**Once more, Joyce…this is the last time! Now push!" the doctor called again.**

**Charles moved closer to the table, staring intently at the scene with all his powers focused, looking for that fleeting impression. If it happened again, it wasn't likely to be because of an errant thought on Joyce's part – and that would give him somewhere to start.**

**The baby's cry filled the room again. "Congratulations, Joyce! It's a girl!" the doctor cried, just as the same sensation crossed Charles' consciousness again.**

**It was so fleeting, it was hard to pin down exactly what it was he was sensing though. But there was definitely something there that shouldn't be. If it was a modified memory, which was what he expected, since the only time it showed up was when the doctor announced the baby's gender, it had been **_**very**_** skillfully inserted into her mind – it was almost seamless in fact – and that made for a rather interesting puzzle.**

_**Thank you, Joyce,**_** he told her before he gently withdrew his conscious mind from hers.**

* * *

Charles opened his eyes and lowered his hands back to rest on the arms of his wheelchair as Joyce opened her own eyes and raised her head from where it had fallen back slightly.

"Dad? What is it?" Buffy asked, reaching out to grip Joyce's arm as she shook her head slowly.

Charles tapped his hands against his mouth for a moment as he gathered his thoughts and waited for Joyce to finish shaking off the sensation of what he had just put her through. "There was definitely something off about that memory, and I suspect that although most of what you remember is real, Joyce, something about that memory has been altered…and it has been altered very well. What I sensed…it was so fleeting, so elusive, that you would never have noticed it or realized that something was wrong about what you were remembering."

Joyce's face was shocked. "Someone…did tamper with my memory?"

Charles nodded slowly. "I believe so. And it is an interesting little problem. I have no doubt, given enough time, I could dissolve the modifications that were made to your memories and find out what's hidden underneath it – but that has its own set of pitfalls. There may be memories there that were buried for good reason, because they are painful or damaging in someway, and releasing them could do more harm than good."

Both women looked nervous. "What would that do to Mom?" Buffy asked, tightening her grip on Joyce's shoulder.

"There's no way to know, Elizabeth. Memories – particularly repressed ones - are completely unpredictable when they do resurface. Some people are strong enough to deal with whatever pain they might bring, and in others…well, the trauma can be so powerful that it overwhelms the conscious mind, which is the reason that they were repressed in the first place. It's one of the mind's ways of protecting itself. But if the memories were artificially repressed for some reason, that's another whole variable I am disinclined to consider."

"Will – will the memory resurface on its own?" Joyce asked, her voice trembling.

"Now that we know that something was done to that memory, it's entirely possible," Charles said. "You may have this – sense – for lack of a better word, to know what is going on behind that block, to learn the truth, and your own mind may decide that it's time that memory be dissolved. That is the state that I am trying to inspire in the mind of one of the teachers at my school. He suffers from severe amnesia, and his mind was badly damaged and confused when I first met him. Over the years, we've had some success in restoring what he _does_ remember, but there are still places in his mind that even I am unable to access. It's my hope that his desire to know will slowly erode the places in his mind that are blocked from his memory, and in doing so, will expose more memories that we can work to put in their proper place."

"What do we do now?" Buffy asked.

"Well, that's really up to Joyce," Charles replied, looking at her closely. "If you are willing to continue to work with me, I can continue to probe your mind and with skill and some luck I may be able to pry those memories loose and allow the real ones to surface. However, I will leave it completely up to you. I will not tamper with your mind if you do not wish me to."

Joyce frowned and looked hesitant. "There's no way to know what it is that I am not remembering?"

Charles shook his head. "Not until we find out where those buried fragments are. Given what I did observe, I doubt that the memories were removed completely and entirely new memories were put in. There are telepaths out there who have that ability – I do, for example – but I know many of them personally, and I know their mental signatures. If it was one that I do know, I will recognize who it was, and that will give me a new place to look for information about Elizabeth's abduction. It is entirely possible, however, that I have never encountered this telepath before, and we will simply find ourselves back at square one. That is why I will leave the choice in your hands."

Joyce looked down at her hands, which were clenched nervously in her lap. "May – may I have a few days to think about it?"

Charles nodded. "Of course. There is no reason that this cannot wait until _you_ feel comfortable with the idea. However, now that you know that something is wrong, your mind may simply start trying to force the memories to the surface on its own. There's no way to predict what might happen."

Joyce nodded in understanding. "If you don't mind…I need a few days to think about…everything that you've told me…not just about my memories, but about Buffy and her new…gifts."

"I understand, and believe me, Joyce," Charles reached out and took her hand gently. "I never had any intention of causing you pain. But I have just found my daughter again, and I have to know what happened to her. If there was any other way I could have gone about this, I would have – but right now, you're my best hope for another lead. You have to understand that no matter what, Elizabeth – Buffy – is your daughter as much as she is mine. You raised her, and you kept her safe all these years. For that, I owe you a debt of gratitude. But at the same time, I do want to get to know my daughter – to tell her about her birth family, and her birth mother – and to teach her how to control her powers. I searched for her for eighteen years, and I am not going to turn my back on her. If she is willing to have me in her life, I intend to be there."

Both of them looked over at Buffy, who nodded. "I want to know. This…it isn't happening in the way I expected, but now that we know part of the puzzle, I need to know the rest as much as you do Dad – and I do want you in my life."

"Then I'll be there for you, Elizabeth. No matter what secrets or – baggage – you bring with you," Charles promised, releasing Joyce's hand and reaching out for his daughter's.

_

* * *

__German translations:_

_Ja_ - Yes

_Was ist das?_ - What is that?

_Was habe ich getan?_ - What have I done?

**Don't forget to send more fabulous reviews my way! I would love to see this story hit 600 reviews between the two sites!**


	28. Chapter 27: Doubts

******Author's Note: Another new chapter for all of you wonderful reviewers. Hopefully this will answer some of the questions you guys have been sending...but not all, of course...*evil laugh***

_**Chapter Twenty-Seven: Doubts**_

"_**The important thing is to never stop questioning." – Albert Einstein**_

"Buffy – I…we need to talk," Joyce said softly, still looking dazed from the information she'd been hit with that night. She shot a pleading look at Buffy.

"Yeah, I know, Mom," Buffy said quietly, before she turned to Charles. "Dad, do you think you could excuse is for a few minutes?"

"Of course," he replied readily. "I'll wait here and think about some things while the two of you discuss what's been going on."

Buffy nodded and held out her hand for her mom. "C'mon, Mom, let's go up to my room and talk." When Joyce took her outstretched hand, Buffy pulled both of them to their feet. Her father moved his chair out of Joyce's way, and together they headed for the stairs. Buffy paused at the bottom as Joyce started up and turned to her father. "Dad, will you - ?"

"I'll be fine, Elizabeth," he assured her. "Take what time you need. I know this is a lot to take in."

"Thanks," Buffy whispered, sending him a weak smile before she headed up the stairs. She crossed into her room and shut the door so that they could talk without her dad overhearing them. Once they were alone, she moved over to her phone and started dialing.

"Buffy, who are you calling?" Joyce asked, her tone somewhat flat.

"Angel and Giles," Buffy told her. "I need to ask them something really fast and then we'll talk." The line connected as Joyce nodded absent-mindedly and Angel's smooth Irish accent came over the line.

"_Hello_?"

"Angel, it's Buffy. I need a favor."

"_What can I do_?" he replied instantly.

"Can you take my late patrol for me tonight? I don't have time to explain everything now, but I'll stop after school tomorrow and tell you what's going on."

"_Of course,"_ Angel agreed. "_I assume this has something to do with Dr. Xavier?"_

"You would assume correctly," Buffy said. "I really appreciate this, Angel."

"_It's not a problem, Buffy. I'll talk to you tomorrow._"

Buffy hung up before dialing Giles at his home. It rang twice before the Watcher picked up.

"Giles, will you come by the house tomorrow afternoon, or before dinner?" Buffy asked after they exchanged greetings.

"_If you need me to, of course,"_ Giles said. "_But you could have just asked me at school tomorrow."_

"Don't want Wesley to know," Buffy replied. "I need advice about something, but it's too involved to talk about now."

"_I'll be there, dear girl,_" Giles promised.

"Thanks, Giles. I'll see you tomorrow."

"_Good-bye, Buffy._"

Buffy hung up the phone and turned to face her mother, who had taken a seat on the end of the bed. She moved over and sat beside Joyce, wrapping her arm around her. They sat in silence for a few minutes while Buff allowed her mother to digest everything. Experience – namely the debacle when Joyce had learned about her Calling – had taught her that her mom needed time to absorb everything.

"Mom, say something," Buffy finally said when the silence had stretched out. "Yell at me, get angry, or cry…I don't care. Just tell me what you're thinking."

"I – I'm not angry, Buffy. Just…tired. I thought we were done with all the big secrets," Joyce said after a moment. "Isn't being the Slayer enough? And now you've suddenly turned into…what did Dr. Xavier call it? – a mutant? - and you're reading minds? And then a man claiming to be your father mysteriously appears and says that I've been living with false memories for eighteen years. I – I don't know what to think."

"I know, Mom. I get so tired of it. I never asked to be the Slayer, let alone a telepath," Buffy agreed. "But this is my life. Any time I think that the worst is over, or that nothing will surprise me any more, the Powers decide to toy with me and yank the rug out from under me, or they dump more crap on my shoulders."

"But why you?" Joyce asked, a little desperately.

"Believe me, Mom, I ask myself that same question every single day."

They fell silent for a few more moments, unable to look at each other as they both considered what else had to be said. Finally, in a soft voice, Joyce voiced the question that was really on her mind. "Buffy, why did you even consider that Dr. Xavier might be telling the truth? What made you even listen to him?"

Buffy thought about it. "Part of it was…I guess…I felt like I owed him. After Angel, Wesley, and Giles helped me with the demon telepathy - god, was it only two weeks ago? – I was just relieved not to be hearing thoughts anymore. But then it started happening again, and no one knew why. I was scared, and I didn't know what to do."

"You didn't say anything," Joyce said.

"I know. It had freaked you out last time – and I was hoping that Giles would find out what went wrong. Then Professor Xavier showed up and I realized that I couldn't sense anything from him. He felt the way Angel does to me – as if he weren't there."

Joyce shook her head, confused.

"Um –" Buffy tried to rephrase her explanation. "Before Professor Xavier turned up, I was feeling everyone like this increasing pressure in my head, even though I wasn't hearing any actual thoughts. He told me that I had managed to find a way to block out everyone but the people closest to me, but it wasn't really effective and it wasn't working the way it should."

"What does that have to do with Angel?" Joyce asked.

"He's a vampire, Mom, so he's immune to telepathy. I can't read his thoughts, or even sense him. After we talked to Dr. Xavier and his friends, I realized that I hadn't sensed anything from them either. When I mentioned it to Angel, he and Giles realized that it couldn't have anything to do with the demon this time – and Giles guessed that Dr. Xavier or one of his friends was either telepathic, or they knew one."

Joyce shook her head again. "Buffy, I don't understand what all this has to do with you agreeing to a DNA test."

"I'm getting there," Buffy replied. "I went to see them the next morning and he explained all about my being a mutant and why I couldn't sense them – and the he offered to teach me the right way to control my powers. He didn't ask for payment. He didn't even mention that he thought I was his daughter right away."

"So – you're not hearing thoughts?" Joyce asked.

"Not right now. He helped me get it under control, and figure out how to block it out," Buffy said. "Because of that, when he did tell me what he believed – about him being my father – I figured I owed him enough to hear him out, even thought I thought he was crazy."

* * *

Charles understood that Joyce and Elizabeth needed to talk privately. He had dropped a huge bombshell in their laps, but Elizabeth had had a few days to adjust to the idea – and she was telepathically bonded to him, which very well might have influenced her receptiveness to him.

He knew that it probably wasn't fair to shatter their illusions so thoroughly or so quickly, but he couldn't lose his daughter again, and he would do whatever was necessary to find out the truth, now that he had a new lead to pursue after eighteen years of hopeless searching.

When they went upstairs, he was tempted to follow them astrally. His daughter wouldn't detect him, since he hadn't taught her anything about astral projection yet, plus he was powerful enough that he could make his astral form invisible to another telepath. It was possible that if he listened in astrally, he would learn something about his daughter's secret – a secret that Joyce was apparently well-aware of.

He wrestled with the pros and cons of the choice for a moment, even though another part of him was surprised at the fact that he was even considering it.

_I would really spy on my own daughter? It's one thing to keep a "supervisory" eye on my students, since as their guardian it is my responsibility to look out for them while they're in my care, but it's something completely different to deliberately use my powers to listen to my daughter while she's having a private conference with someone!_

_But…whatever her secret is…if it is as terrible as I suspect, which it must be, considering the way that she's reacted at times, I need to know it. I will not let anything take her away from me again now that I've found her – and as her father, I have a duty to protect her!_

For his entire life, he had prided himself on his ethics and his self-control. Although to unaware eyes, he appeared to be a simple cripple, he was in reality so much more. He commanded awesome powers, and not just in the strength and skill level of his telepathy. His power extended even into political and social circles – if he chose to use it – and throughout the years, his ethics had been the only thing that had given him a reason to succeed in what he set out to do, no matter the challenge.

He was well-liked in Bayville – he had friends on the school board, the city council, and the chamber of commerce. His family had lived in Bayville for generations, from before Bayville was even a town, so his word and his opinions were highly sought after and respected. If he ever chose to run for an office, he would no doubt win.

Further more, his family controlled a vast fortune. Successful businesses in Europe and America, wise investments in the stock market, and his own income as an author, researcher, part-time inventor, and – at one time – university professor had all but guaranteed that he had the capital and the resources he needed to do anything he desired. Now, of course, that fortune would rightfully go to Elizabeth one day.

Those things alone practically assured that - if he chose to use them – he could become a powerful force in the political and social playing fields. Of course, those things had no interest to him outside of how he could use them to protect his students. He had grown up as one of the privileged members of society, attending private schools, having a family estate for a home with a live-in staff while his parents had been alive. But none of those things had ever brought him any pleasure. He had always been content with the things he could earn for himself, which was why he had devoted himself to his studies and his athletic pursuits when he was younger and his genetic research once he had graduated.

But in addition to the wealth and respect that he could command if he chose, his amazing telepathic abilities were quite possibly the most powerful on the planet. If he chose, he could use his powers to sway the minds of politicians and world leaders, he could astrally project himself into any top secret location and get out undetected, or he could use his ability to launch psychic blasts to injure or kill.

The sheer power at his disposal – and the temptations to use that power – was the reason that he held his ethics so important. He could literally remake the world if he desired to – and that was at the heart of his disagreements with Magneto. The self-proclaimed "Master of Magnetism" couldn't fathom how he could refuse to use his powers to make the world better for mutants.

But now, he was contemplating using that power to spy on his own daughter, and found himself nearly succumbing to the temptation. As a scientist, his curiosity was one of his greatest strengths, and he desperately wanted to know about her dark secret. His patience and self-restraint had never failed him before, but where his daughter was concerned, he wanted to know everything about her – to forge the relationship that they should have had her entire life – in as short a time as possible. He didn't want to play things cautiously this time.

After a furious internal debate with himself, his practical, patient side won out and he checked the desire to eavesdrop on his daughter with an effort. He didn't have to get to know his daughter in one day, no matter how much he wanted to. She had already said that she wanted to be in his life – so there was time. They were telepathically bonded, after all, and now that they knew the truth about their relationship they could use that bond to connect further.

He could share his memories with her if she asked, and once he taught her how to project her thoughts in that matter, she would be able to share hers with him. They could speak without the need for words, and they would always have a sense of where the other person was and what they were doing if they could strengthen the bond enough.

But it was hard…

* * *

"But why, Buffy? Why would you even consider it?" Joyce demanded, her tone starting to get more intense as she finally digested everything that she had learned that night. "You barely know this man – and he's all but admitted that he has the power to create memories – how do you know he hasn't done something to you?"

Buffy bit her lip, trying to think of an explanation that would make sense to her mom. "I – I don't Mom. You're right. But he's been nothing but kind to me – he's done more than he had to, considering that I said no to his school. He didn't _have_ to teach me anything, but when I asked for his help, he didn't hesitate. Do I trust him? No, I don't. Not yet."

"Then why –"

"I will not tell him about being the Slayer, not until he's proved that he can be trusted. But the DNA test- it was run by a real lab and the tech who came out to get the samples that we provided was professional and efficient. He told us exactly what would happen, and what he was going to do. Giles did some checking after Dr. Xavier arranged everything, and he was fairly sure that everything was going to be legal and correct. I think we can trust their conclusions."

Joyce opened her mouth like she was about to respond, but didn't say anything.

"There's more, Mom. I've been screwed over by the Powers and people I trusted too many times. Even Giles betrayed me, but I've learned to trust again. I don't trust easily anymore, but if someone proves that they're trustworthy, I will give them my trust. And with Dad – Dr. Xavier…I don't know. I can't explain _why_ but I do feel…tied to him, as if I should trust him. There's something about him…and maybe he is influencing me somehow – but he just _feels_ honest."

"Buffy…"

"I know! It makes no sense! But I think if he really were trying to force me into something, he could have made me believe whatever he wanted me to, without the need for a DNA test. I couldn't control my powers before; I had no way to block him out if he wanted to stick a fake memory in my head. But he hasn't done anything like that. Maybe he's clever enough not to, but it's just as likely that he's telling the truth."

Joyce's shoulders, which had been tight with tension, sagged suddenly. "I guess you're right, honey." She hung her head for a moment, and then looked up. "Where does that leave us?"

"In the same place we were," Buffy told her, reaching out a hug. "I'm never going to stop loving you Mom. But now we know something that we didn't, and I know that Hank isn't my biological father."

"He hasn't been much of a father since the divorce, that's true," Joyce said quietly. "But I think – I think in a way he was always hoping for a son. I think he has trouble relating to you."

Buffy nodded. "I know. That's part of the reason I chose to come with you when everything was finalized." She sighed. "Look, Mom – let's just give him a chance, okay? He's not going to try to yank me out of school or force me to come to New York. If he really wanted to, he could have already called the police, but he hasn't."

Joyce thought about that for a few minutes. "All right, Buffy. We'll give it a try." Reaching out, she embraced her daughter. "No matter what, you know I love you, right?"

"I love you too, Mom. That won't ever change." Buffy returned the hug tightly.

They stayed that way for several moments before Joyce started wheezing. "Air, Buffy."

"Oops…sorry, Mom." Buffy released her quickly. She pulled back and looked at Joyce, "Do you mind if I go down and talk to him for a while?"

"Just be careful, Buffy," Joyce said quietly. "I'll be down in a few minutes. I just need some time to think."

"Okay. I can make some tea for you," Buffy offered as she rose to her feet.

"That would be wonderful sweetheart. Thank you," Joyce said as Buffy moved towards the door.

She descended the stairs, looking into the living room to see her father sitting quietly with his eyes closed, deep in thought. He didn't move as she crossed silently through the dining room and into the kitchen. She grabbed her mom's tea kettle and filled it up with water that she put on the stove to boil. Grabbing the box of her mom's favorite Earl Grey blend, she pulled out two bags and found two cups and saucers. She had noticed the last time that her father had been here that he had taken Earl Grey, so she quickly set up the tray. Her mom would be down in a few minutes and would probably join them in the living room.

The kettle started to whistle, so she quickly poured the water into the tea pot, and then took the whole tray into the living room.

This time her father opened his eyes when she entered and smiled at her. She didn't know why, but the sight of his smile made her feel warm inside. Something about it felt right.

"Do you want some tea now? I made some for Mom, but I thought…"

"Tea would be wonderful, Elizabeth, thank you," Charles said, waiting until she had put the tray down and poured him a cup before he reached for it.

Buffy sat back on the couch and watched him as he prepared his cup. She tucked her legs up beneath her, trying to affect a pose of relaxation, but she couldn't really feel relaxed as she studied him. Was her mother right? Could he have done something to her mind to make her believe everything he said? How would she know if he was lying? She usually was much more distrustful after everything that had happened the last few years…but like she'd told her mother, something was telling her that it was safe to trust this man.

At the same time however, she knew that she still couldn't trust him. She had been hurt and betrayed too many times by people she had trusted. He would need to prove himself before she could commit her full trust to him – and she still desperately wanted to talk to Giles about the best way to broach the topic of her Slayerly Calling.

How would she ever figure out if he could be trusted or not? Couldn't he, if he was as powerful as he claimed, even create a memory of her giving him his trust? And if he did, how would she know?

Charles was aware of some of what his daughter was thinking, despite her nonchalant pose and her telepathic shields. It was plainly written all over her face, in the tension in her shoulders, and in her eyes. She didn't trust him.

_She doesn't know me yet,_ he reminded himself. _She said it herself. She has no reason to believe that I care about her and won't abandon her._

He watched her as he sat back, carefully stirring his tea and mixing the lemon into it. She needed to be convinced, and they needed to start trying to forge the relationship that he wanted with her.

_Then it's up to me to convince her. But where to start?_ How did he go about getting to know his eighteen-year-old daughter?

Perhaps he needed to start with something simple, just like he would if he was meeting her as a friend for the first time. "You don't like Earl Grey, Elizabeth?"

"Oh, I like it fine," she replied. "But coffee and espresso are really more my thing – and I never drink them this late unless I'm at the Bronze with Xander and Willow."

"The Bronze?"

"The only really good club in Sunnydale. We're usually there a couple of nights a week. I think they went tonight, as a matter of fact, but I decided not to because I was going to meet you."

Charles frowned in thought as he remembered the two teens that had been in the school library with his daughter the day they first met. He hadn't paid much attention to them at the time, because he'd been rather focused on his daughter. "Who are Willow and Xander?"

"My two best friends. I met them my first day at Sunnydale High. We've been best friends ever since." Buffy fell silent for a moment before she continued. "Then there's Oz, he's Willow's boyfriend of…" she frowned for a moment in thought, "Not quite two years, I guess, and Cordelia, or Cordy as we call her. She and Xander were going out for a while, until they broke up, but she still hangs with us from time to time."

"And Angel is your boyfriend?" Charles asked, wanting to get it all straight so that when he met all of these people – which he hoped he would – he would be able to put faces and relationships to the names. He was thinking out loud, not trying to sound judgmental, but his daughter's eyes narrowed sharply.

"Don't you dare say anything disapproving about him," Buffy said sternly. "I love him, and you haven't been around long enough to be able to pass judgment."

Her words cut him. "I wasn't going to, Elizabeth," he protested softly as Joyce came downstairs and joined them, reaching for the second cup of tea. "I was just thinking out loud." He looked at her, slightly hurt by her rash conclusion. "I want to know about your life and the people in it. I was just making sure I was clear on your relationship with him."

Her gaze softened slightly, reminding him – again – sharply of Lizzie. His wife had tried to be kind and compassionate to everyone, but on the rare occasions when her temper snapped she had gotten that same fiery gaze in her eyes that his daughter just had until she calmed down. He met her gaze with a sincere one of his own. "I know I have no right to pass judgment on your life – but that doesn't mean that I'm not interested."

She softened more. "I'm sorry. I just don't trust easily and we still don't really know each other. I don't know what you're thinking, and I don't need someone who is going to disapprove of who I am and what I do."

"I won't do that, Elizabeth," he promised her. "At least, I'll try not to. I haven't had much experience being a father, so I don't know how I'll respond to the things you tell me. And I do want to get to know you, and I want you to get to know me and to trust me. More than anything, I want you to come to New York with me. I want to bring you home." He ignored the tension he saw in Joyce's shoulders. He wouldn't force his daughter – he'd promised as much – but that didn't mean he wouldn't ask and keep trying to persuade her.

"I can't. Not right now, anyway. We might be able to work something out over the summer, but…"

He sensed that her hesitancy had something to do with her secret and it frustrated him. "Whatever it is that you're hiding, I wish you'd tell me."

Buffy shook her head. "No. We've been over this already, Dad. You still haven't earned my trust. I've been burned too many times in the last few years by people I did trust. I can't just hand you my entire life on a platter and just wait for you to stomp on it."

And _that_ was what he truly didn't understand. What had been done to his daughter? No eighteen-year-old should have such a haunted gaze or have any reason to feel so betrayed and distrusting.

But he sensed that it was perhaps time to make a gracious retreat. It was getting late, and as Joyce had pointed out when he arrived, it was a school night. He didn't have to be back in Bayville for a while, so it wasn't like he and his daughter couldn't meet tomorrow and everyday after that until he was needed at home – and he was sure that Buffy and Joyce both wanted time to think and to discuss their next step.

Draining the last of his tea, which he had been sipping all during the discussion, he placed it back on the saucer before he leaned forward and set it on the tray. "I think that I should probably head back to my hotel for the night," he said mildly. "It has been an interesting day for everyone, I do believe."

"Stay here, please," Buffy said immediately, before she turned to her mother. "Mom, you don't mind if he takes the guest room, do you?"

"Buffy…" Joyce sighed.

"I won't impose on you, Mrs. Summers," Charles said firmly.

"Mom, please. You know that Sunnydale's not safe at night. I would feel a lot better if Dad was safe indoors," Buffy pressed. "He's too easy a target for the gangs."

"I'll be safe once I get to my hotel, Elizabeth," Charles said. "I do have some defenses. My telepathy…"

"Won't protect you and it's the 'getting there' that worries me," Buffy replied stubbornly. "You have no idea how vicious the gangs are. They don't consider anything to be off-limits except for private residences, and if you're attacked at your hotel, or on the way there, the police here won't do a thing, because they're incompetent morons."

Charles frowned. What she was saying made absolutely no sense. How could such a small, quiet down be as bad as she claimed? He'd looked out the window at night several times during the previous weekend while he'd been here, and the streets had been all but deserted. "Elizabeth, I think you're over-reacting."

Joyce shook her head, reluctantly it seemed. "She's not, Dr. Xavier. Sunnydale is very dangerous at night, no matter what it looks like. Buffy's right. The safest place for you is inside a house. It's the one place where no one will dare attack."

Charles was still confused. "What about your friends that you said had gone to the club? Won't they be in danger?"

"They grew up here. They're aware of the danger, and they know how to defend themselves," Buffy replied. "But strangers and tourists are easy targets, and if you go out there in your wheelchair, it would be like you painted a neon sign on you that says 'Attack me!'"

"How can the police be that ineffective?"

"I think some of it is a cover-up, either by the mayor, who is seriously evil, or the city council or something. They don't do anything, Dad, trust me."

"But I spoke to a Detective Stein, and he seemed quite competent," Charles replied, not thinking about what he was saying.

"Detective Stein?" Buffy asked, her face paling a little. "Why?"

"When I first detected your powers, I called the private investigator that I had hired when you first disappeared, after the FBI gave up, and asked him to come out here and see what he could find out," Charles replied. "About three days later, I received a call from Detective Stein telling me that David had been murdered in a mugging."

Buffy's bright eyes narrowed dangerously. "Did he say how your friend was killed?"

Charles' frown deepened further. "Why do you want to know?"

"Just answer me, please," Buffy asked.

Charles was completely lost. "He said that David had been stabbed twice – in the throat, I believe – and bled out."

"Damn them," Buffy swore softly under her breath, clenching her fist.

"Buffy, language!" Joyce snapped.

Buffy ignored her mother. "Dad, I need you to listen to me very carefully. Sunnydale is dangerous. You do not need to be outside at night. If you do, you will be killed, just like your friend. Give me your hotel key and I'll go and get your stuff. You're staying here. I'll go with you to the hotel tomorrow and you can check out, but I am not letting you stay there."

"If it's that dangerous, you can't walk the streets alone, Elizabeth," he replied.

"I can take care of myself. I've had self-defense training, and the gangs know not to mess with me," his daughter replied.

He stared at her in disbelief. At best, his daughter was five-foot-two, and weighed barely a hundred pounds – and the gangs were afraid of her? It made no sense. "Elizabeth, you must be kidding."

"I'm not. I've had run-ins with them before and kicked their asses," Buffy replied. "They leave me and my friends alone for the most part. Every so often, there's a stupid one that I have to put down, but they seriously don't mess with me. I'm a lot stronger than I look, because I was a cheerleader, and I'm a black belt."

"Elizabeth…"

"Don't argue with me, Dad," she said. A moment later, she changed, as she acquired this sudden…_commanding_…presence that made her seem much larger and tougher than he would think to look at her. In many ways it reminded him of Logan, but with his daughter it was much subtler and almost made her seem more dangerous. "Give me your key. All of your stuff is still in your suitcase, isn't it?"

After a moment, he nodded and reached for the key that was tucked in his jacket pocket. "I still don't like this idea…"

His daughter seemed to deflate slightly and lost that presence that he had seen a minute before. "Fine, if it makes you feel better, I'll call Angel and ask him to walk with me. He's a black belt too, and together no one will mess with us."

Joyce nodded. "I think that would be a good idea, Buffy."

Buffy nodded and headed for the phone on the table, wondering if Angel would have left yet for his patrol. If he had, she'd have to go alone, since he didn't have a cell phone. She dialed the number quickly.

"_Hello?"_ Angel sounded surprised, but she knew he didn't get many phone calls, let alone two in one night.

"Angel, its me again," Buffy said. "I need another favor. Will you meet me at my house and walk with me down to the Ramada? I need to pick up Dr. Xavier's stuff, since he's staying with us while he's in town."

She could sense his confusion over the line before he even spoke since that was something she could easily do herself. _"If you need me to, Buffy, but…"_

"Don't ask. It'll make both of them feel better…but I'll explain everything to you when you get here."

"_I'll be there in a few minutes,"_ he finally replied.

"Thanks, Angel. I really appreciate it. I'll see you in a few."

He hung up, and she turned to face them. "I'll go and get the guest room ready Mom. Do you want to head to bed? I know you have to work tomorrow."

"I think I should, Buffy, but I don't want to leave Dr. Xavier alone here if you're going out."

"I'll be all right, Joyce. I'm sorry to have kept you up, and to have imposed myself on you this way," he apologized.

"No, it's all right. Buffy's right, Sunnydale's too dangerous, and you do need to be in a private home if you're going to stay here," Joyce replied. "But Buffy, how will he get up the stairs?"

"I'll manage, Mom, don't worry about it. Go to bed. I'll clean up down here and stuff before I come to bed."

"All right, and be careful when you go out," Joyce replied. "Good night, dear."

"Night, Mom. I'll see you in the morning."

Joyce headed up the stairs, and Buffy turned to her father. "Give me a couple of minutes to get the tea cleared away, and then I'll go up and get some towels and stuff for you to use. After I bring your stuff, you can take a shower if you want. I'll shower in the morning before school."

"Elizabeth, you don't have to go to a lot of trouble," Charles tried to protest.

"Don't worry about it, you're a guest now," Buffy said, gathering up the tea tray and heading into the kitchen. "Angel will be here in a few minutes, but you can watch TV if you want, or Mom has some books down there in the living room."

Charles was still completely confused, but decided that it was better not to argue. He was more interested in figuring out the sudden change he had sensed in his daughter when they were arguing about him staying here. She had suddenly gone from a typical eighteen-year-old valley girl to a dangerous predator…but how? And why? What was so wrong with Sunnydale that this quiet town had so many gangs?

Tomorrow he would contact Logan and ask him to do some checking into the town. That was the one avenue he hadn't thought to explore when he was looking for information about his daughter.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts, and he wondered if he should answer it, but a moment later his daughter emerged from the kitchen and went to get it. She looked out the windows that were inset into the door, her entire posture tense, as if she was expecting an attack, before she relaxed and swung the door open. "Hey Angel," she told him.

"Hey, Buffy," the dark-haired man said, stepping inside and dropping a kiss on her head. "I'm a little confused, but I certainly don't mind spending time with you, no matter what the situation."

"I'll explain everything on the way to the Ramada," Buffy promised, slipping her arm into his. "Dad, feel free to use anything down here that you want. We'll be back in a few minutes."

"Dad?" Angel queried.

"Yeah, that's the big secret," Buffy replied. "C'mon…oh, and Dad, if anyone knocks on the door, don't answer it. Anyone who has reason to be here will have a key and will let themselves in. No one should be coming except for me though."

Still bewildered by everything, Charles only nodded and watched as his daughter and her boyfriend stepped out into the – apparently – dangerous night, arm in arm, Buffy talking quietly to him as she pulled the door closed behind herself.

What was going on in this town?

**Don't forget to leave me a bunch of reviews, please! I'd love to see more lurkers telling me what they think, along with all my loyal readers!**


	29. Chapter 28: Helping Hand

_Author's Note: Another chapter for all of you, and I'm thrilled to announce that between the two sites this story is posted to, we've hit 600 reviews! Thank you all!  
_

_**Chapter Twenty-Eight: Helping Hand**_

"_**In about the same degree as you are helpful, you will be happy."**_

_**-Karl Reiland**_

_Main Street…_

"So Dr. Xavier is your father?" Angel asked quietly after they had walked in silence for a few minutes. Buffy had explained why he was staying at their house as they left, before she had fallen silent.

"Yeah, he got the test results in this afternoon and flew back out to tell me, just like he promised he would," Buffy replied, resting her head against his arm.

Angel disentangled their arms and then wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. Even though they couldn't sleep together because it would cost him his soul, that didn't mean they couldn't touch or kiss, and he loved holding her.

Buffy sighed contentedly. Even though her life was constantly one catastrophe after another, consistently being knocked flat, then getting back up only to get run down again, it was times like this that she could almost forget her crazy existence. Just walking under the moon and the stars with her boyfriend, talking quietly…it made her feel almost like a normal girl.

"What are you thinking, Buffy?" Angel whispered after they had walked another couple of blocks.

"About him being my dad?" Buffy clarified.

Angel nodded and pulled her a little closer as they matched strides. Despite the difference in their heights, they just fit together, and that was as comforting as anything else to her, especially after the way that she had sent him into hell, yet when he had returned he had accepted her back without once blaming her for what she'd had to do. They fit – as if they were meant to be.

Buffy was quiet for a few minutes while she thought about how to put what she was thinking and feeling into words that would make sense. "It's…confusing. Part of me is glad to know the truth, and I already feel tied to him in some way, maybe through the telepathic bond that we seem to have. I can tell that he seems to genuinely care about me, and wants to be part of my life, which is…nice."

"And the other part?" Angel prompted, as she fell silent again.

"I'm not sure," she admitted. "I mean, now he's here…but what exactly does he expect of me? My Dad – Hank, I mean – we always had trouble relating. Mom thinks its because he always wanted a son, and even though Hank did his best, ever since the divorce, he's all but abandoned us. Now Dr. Xavier is here, and he tells me that I'm just like his wife in so many ways…does he expect me to become just like her? To move to New York and go to med school? He's apparently pretty wealthy – does he expect me to become a Cordy-clone?"

Angel was quiet for a few minutes. "Its hard to live up to the expectations that our parents have for us. I was never able to manage it with my father, so I always felt like I was this huge disappointment for him. I didn't know how to deal with that, so I finally just gave up and did my best to become what he'd told me I always was – a failure." He looked down at her and smiled. "But I don't think Dr. Xavier expects you to turn into Cordelia, Buffy."

Buffy laughed at the way he'd said it, although it didn't really ease any of her worries. What did he want from her? And her biggest worry – if he found out about her being the Slayer, could he accept that? She was the Slayer and that would never change – but she couldn't handle being rejected by another parent who couldn't accept her Calling.

"What are you going to do?" Angel finally asked. "Are you going to tell him?"

"I don't know. I need to talk to Giles and see what he thinks. I don't trust Wesley, and he'll run to the Council immediately if he finds out that Dr. Xavier is my father, or that I'm a telepath. Giles will know what to do."

"He'll have some advice for you, Buffy, but ultimately, you're going to have to make the decision of whether or not to trust him," Angel pointed out quietly.

"That's the biggest problem I'm having," Buffy admitted. "Part of me wants to trust him, and I don't know why. I have a really hard time trusting anyone since I was Called, so the fact that I _want_ to tell him…it's not normal for me. But the other part of me is suspicious because of those same feelings. He's admitted that he's a strong enough telepath to alter or create memories, so how do I know that he hasn't already messed with mine in some way? I didn't have any defenses against him before he showed me how…how do I know he didn't do something to me to make me want to trust him?"

Angel pulled her to a stop and fixed her with an incredibly serious look. "Buffy, whatever you do, _do not_ start doubting yourself."

Buffy frowned, not sure what he meant. "Huh?"

Angel ran a hand through his hair. "Don't fall into the trap of questioning every decision that you make," he explained. "It's an incredibly insidious circle if you do. First you doubt yourself or your memories, so you look for reasons to prove yourself wrong or right. But then when the next decision comes up as a result of the choice you made, it becomes easier to doubt yourself again. It's a vicious cycle, and it's hard to break out of it once you fall into it, especially for someone with psychic powers."

"How do you know all this?"

Angel looked incredibly uncomfortable. "Drusilla."

Buffy's eyes narrowed dangerously at the mention of the insane vampiress. "What does she have to do with anything?"

Angel looked away from her. "When I – Angelus – first met her, she was already a budding Seer. But the time that she lived in…it was considered a sin to be a Seer. It was called a witchcraft power. The priests felt that no one had the right to see the future except for God. Drusilla couldn't control her visions and when she mentioned them to her family, they scorned her for them. As a result, whenever she saw something, she doubted herself terribly. It put an incredible strain on her nerves, and even before Angelus started his plan to torment her, she was on the brink of a complete mental breakdown. With each vision that she saw, her control became more and more shaky and her nerves and her emotions more unstable. It didn't take much for Angelus to drive her completely over the edge, but even if he hadn't, she probably would have lost it completely within a few years anyway."

"And you think that will happen to me?" Buffy asked.

"Only if you start doubting yourself," Angel corrected. "For now, believe that he hasn't done anything to you, until you have solid evidence that proves otherwise." He took her arm again and they started walking again. "From what I've seen of him, I don't think he's the kind of person who would do something like that to you."

"So you think I should just assume that he's telling me the truth about everything?" Buffy asked, absent-mindedly reaching up to toy with the necklace that had been her mother's.

The fact that her father had kept it all these years, in the vague hope that he might be able to give it to her one day spoke a lot about how much he cared – and she didn't think that was something that he could have hidden from her.

"Until he gives you a reason to doubt him, or until you have evidence that he's lied, yes," Angel told her as they approached the Ramada.

Buffy looked around for a moment. "Okay, I'm going to go up to his room and get his stuff," she said. "Wait down here for me, and I'll drop it out the window. If I try to leave with a suitcase in my hand and I don't pay or check out, I think we'll have problems. I'll come back tomorrow with Dad so he can check out."

"All right. Do you know his room number?" Angel asked.

Buffy nodded. "218. It's on that side over there." She leaned up and kissed him. "Be right back."

She headed into the hotel and bypassed the front desk, moving straight to the stairs. It would be faster to go up the stairs than to wait for the elevator, and she wanted to get back as soon as possible. She came out on the second floor and hurried down the hallway, following the signs until she reached her father's room. Using the keycard he'd given her, it was only a matter of seconds for her to open the door.

Even though he'd said everything was in his suitcase, she quickly checked the bathroom, drawers, and the closet, just to make sure that she had everything, but it seemed that he hadn't unpacked at all. The suitcase was still sitting on the stand in the corner, everything neatly folded and packed. She closed the lid and zipped it up before she went over to the window and slid it open.

Angel was waiting down below, although he wasn't exactly beneath her. The windows weren't labeled, so he'd gone to about where he thought that she would be. He looked up at the sound of the window opening, and moved beneath her when he spotted her.

"Heads up!" she called softly, and he nodded. Tossing the suitcase out the window, she watched as it fell. Angel moved until he was right beneath it, and caught it easily.

For a moment she contemplated jumping out the window after the bag, but finally decided not to. She didn't want to leave the window unlocked, and after they came back so that her dad could check out the next day, there'd be no way to get up here to make sure that the window was closed. "Angel, I'm going to go out the side door at the end of the hall!"

"I'll meet you over there," he called back, softly.

"Be right there." She slid the window closed and locked it, before she made another quick, cursory check of the room. Everything else seemed to be exactly where it should be, so she headed for the door, pocketing the key as she went.

Getting out of the hotel was even easier than getting in, since she didn't have to pass the front desk this time. She shoved the door open and found Angel waiting, holding the suitcase in one hand. "Thanks for doing this for me, Angel. It was the only way I could get out of the house without making him even more confused and suspicious than he already was after I told him that Sunnydale isn't safe at night."

"Its okay, Buffy," Angel assured her. "I like being able to spend time with you."

They walked in silence for another block before Buffy spoke again. "You really don't mind taking my patrol tonight? I don't want to risk sneaking out with Dad in the room right next to mine."

"It's no problem," he assured her. "I'll walk you home and then I'll go over towards the Bronze and the warehouse district."

Buffy nodded. "Okay. Watch out for Faith too. I don't know if she's still patrolling or not. I don't think she is, but I don't want to underestimate her, or the Mayor," she cautioned him.

"I'll be okay, Buffy. Enjoy the time with your dad and don't worry about anything," Angel told her, dropping a kiss on her head as they turned onto Revello Drive.

Buffy nodded, not saying anything as they headed up the street. She just wanted to savor these last few minutes of the walk. She and Angel had had so few opportunities to be together without an apocalypse looming.

All too soon, however, they reached the house. Angel walked her up to the porch before catching her arm and pulling her to a stop. He reached up and brushed a strand of her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear.

Buffy set her father's suitcase on the porch and reached up to cup his face as he bent down to kiss her. She met him halfway, loving the feel of his lips and reveling in the taste of him. She'd kissed other boys – Tyler and Pike at Hemery in L.A, Scott Hope…but none of them compared to Angel's kisses. When Angel kissed her, he made everything go away – and that was something that none of her other boyfriends had ever been able to do.

She could have spent the rest of the night there, held in Angel's arms, but it was already late and Angel still had a patrol waiting. _Very_ reluctantly, she broke the kiss.

"Good-night, Angel," she whispered, reaching for her keys as she picked up the suitcase again.

"Night, Buffy. I'm happy that things seem to working out," Angel replied, his Irish accent thick and husky.

"Thanks, but I'm not counting on anything yet. Next thing I know, I'll get run down by a semi."

"Not everything good leads to something bad, Buffy. Just keep believing that everything will work out for the best." His voice was quiet and he quickly captured her lips one more time for a brief kiss. "Good-night."

He turned and walked away into the night, vanishing into the darkness as Buffy unlocked her door and stepped inside her house, closing and locking the door behind her.

Her father was still sitting in the living room, although he had apparently gone around and turned off all the lights in the downstairs except for the one in the entry and a lamp on an end table next to him. He had a book resting on his lap that he had looked up from when she had entered, which told her that he must have raided her mom's bookshelves.

"Got it," she said, holding up his suitcase a little. "But I need to go to bed now so I can get up for school in the morning. Do you mind if I help you upstairs now?"

Charles shook his head and closed his book, reaching over and putting it on the table before he turned out the light. Laying his hand on the controls for his chair, he maneuvered through the living room and out to the entryway. "I'm not sure how you're going to manage to get me upstairs, Elizabeth. I can sleep down here, if that would be easier."

"Not necessary, Dad," she assured him. She knew that she could probably carry him up the stairs easily, but that would be a bit of a giveaway regarding her secret. Instead, she headed up the stairs with his suitcase, which she left inside his room. She noticed that her mom must have done some of the preparations, since there were towels laid out on the end of the bed already.

Coming back down the stairs, she went around behind his chair and found, to her relief – since it would make everything so much easier – that there were retractable handles built into the frame of his chair. She quickly unfolded them and then pulled his chair over to the stairs before she turned her back and started backwards up the stairs, pulling his chair with her.

Charles sat perfectly still to avoid overbalancing the chair as his daughter hauled him up the stairs. This was probably his least favorite part about being confined to a wheelchair. He hated the way that he had to rely on other people for some things – like going up a set of stairs when there wasn't an accessible ramp or elevator. When he had first been told by the doctors that he would never walk again, he had recoiled from the notion that he would be forced to rely on someone for the rest of his life. As a result, he had insisted on having a powered wheelchair that would allow him to move with almost complete freedom, except in very rare circumstances. If he couldn't walk, at least being able to decide where and when he moved helped to alleviate some of the feelings of loss and anger that being confined to a wheelchair had wrought.

But he was amazed at the ease that Elizabeth was pulling him up. The stairs in her house were steep and narrow – not an easy challenge even for someone like Logan or Scott, who were physically fit and strong. Between his own weight and the weight of his chair, he wouldn't have expected her to be able to budge him. But to his astonishment, she was pulling him up as if he weighed nothing. Apparently, she had been telling the truth about being stronger than she appeared.

For a fleeting moment, he wondered if it was possible that she had some other mutation that had increased her physical strength. It wasn't impossible, or unheard of. Kurt, for example, was a teleporter, but he also had incredible agility, balance, and stamina. And Logan – his mutant healing ability was strictly passive, but he also was much stronger than he appeared to be, as well as having heightened senses. Could his daughter have had something similar happen to her? In the case of dual mutant abilities – when a mutant had two powers, they didn't always emerge simultaneously. Jean had started out as just being telekinetic, but after a few months of training, she had started to show signs of developing telepathy. It was entirely possible that his daughter's strength had increased as a result of one power – and that it had manifested much sooner than her telepathy.

Of course, that did raise the issue of why Cerebro hadn't detected her sooner – but his telepathic enhancer and mutant locator wasn't perfect.

But it could also simply be what she had said – that she had been a cheerleader and was now a black belt. Increased strength and stamina could easily have come from those sources as well.

They reached the top of the stairs in short order and she pushed his chair into the guest room. "The bathroom is right across the hall. There's a shower and a tub, and it looks like Mom has already laid towels out for you." Buffy took the time to retract the handles back into the frame of his chair for him.

"Thank you, Elizabeth," Charles told her as he looked around the room. It was small, especially with his wheelchair taking up a great deal of the available space, but it was cozy and comfortable. The bed in the corner had a beautiful hand-stitched crazy quilt spread across it, and there was a nice mixture of modern and traditional art scattered along the walls and furniture. "This is quite nice. I should be fine in here."

"Okay. I'm a really light sleeper, so if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask," Buffy told him. "My room is next door." She backed out of the room, moving almost as quietly as a cat. "Good-night," she told him, reaching for the doorknob and starting to pull the door closed behind her.

"Good-night, Elizabeth," he replied, for a moment almost wishing that she would hug him again – or that she was still a small child so that he could tuck her into bed, something he hadn't gotten to do since she was a baby.

But she wasn't a child any longer, and they were still mostly strangers, so she didn't take the more familiar route and embrace him. Instead, she only smiled at him before she pulled the door closed.

* * *

_It was the sound of combat that greeted him. Years of knowing Logan – and most recently of training his students – had made the sounds familiar, although they were not exactly comforting. As Logan had pointed out, more than once, Charles was and always would be a pacifist. He would do what was necessary to defend himself or the people he cared about, as the automated defenses at the school attested, but he would always look for a peaceful situation first if there was any choice._

_Charles blinked and turned slowly around. Everything was dark, except for the light of the moon overhead, but it was bright enough that he could tell he was standing in a graveyard. He knew immediately that he was dreaming. Only in dreams or on the astral plane did he have the ability to stand and walk. But he hadn't sent his mind out to the astral plane – a decision he had to consciously make, which meant this had to be a dream._

_Plus, the last thing he remembered before finding himself here was lying down to sleep in the guest room at his daughter's house…but why was he dreaming about a graveyard?_

_The sound of the fight intensified and he spotted the combatants some distance away from where he was standing. He couldn't make out any details at the distance, but he could tell that it was a young, light-haired woman who was being attacked by several dark-haired men who all seemed to be larger and heavier than she was. Yet, despite that, the woman moved with a grace and fluidity that he suspected was unrivaled._

_Each motion flowed into the next. A high punch to one attacker's face turned into an elbow to another's gut, which then turned into a rising kick at the second man's face. There was a hauntingly beautiful lethality and intensiveness to the fight – it was obvious that the woman was not going to give any quarter to the men who were attacking her._

_Charles started towards her. He might be a pacifist, but he was not going to let a woman get hurt in an unfair fight – dream or not. But as he drew close enough to begin making out some details, he realized that the woman was rather petite, and in addition she had long, sun-kissed blonde hair. At a distance, it could have been white, or grey, any shade of blonde, or possibly even a light brown._

_Seconds later, his jaw dropped in shock as he drew close enough to identify the mystery woman with the deadly, yet beautiful, grace as his daughter. But there was something wrong with the picture. He couldn't figure out what it was, but her attackers seemed…deformed in someway._

"_Elizabeth?"_

_As if she'd heard him, she looked away from the fight for the first time, just as one of the men grabbed her from behind. He started toward her again, only to pause as she easily broke the man's hold and flipped him to the ground. She grabbed something out of her pocket and then dropped down after the man, the object that she was holding flashing down, point first._

_A second before impact, everything froze – his daughter, the fight, the sound…he was completely isolated, and it seemed as if he was the only thing that could still move._

_What was going on?_

_Charles turned his head, looking for some reason to explain this very odd dream that he was having. In all his life, he couldn't remember having a dream anywhere near as odd as this one._

_A faint, glowing light caught his eye. It was coming from behind his daughter, who was still frozen on the ground. It grew larger and brighter until he was forced to shield his eyes from it._

_When he was finally able to lower his arm and open his eyes again, his jaw dropped for a second time. There was someone else standing near his daughter – but at first glance, it appeared to be the same person. Sun-kissed blonde hair, sparkling emerald eyes, petite, slender figure…and a smile that he could never mistake for anyone else._

_For a moment, all he could do was stare. It absolutely couldn't be…he was going mad. It was the only explanation. For years he had wanted this, but never had it happened._

"_Lizzie?" he breathed._

_His beloved wife's smile broadened, but it was tinged with sadness. "Hello Charles."_

**I'm sure most of you are going "huh?" at this point...to find out more, leave me a happy review....they encourage me to write faster.**


	30. Chapter 29: Dream a Little Dream

_**Author's Note: Hey again all! Another wonderful chapter for your reading and reviewing pleasure. This one took a few more days than I had planned - mostly because I didn't have time to sit down and write! But I'm pretty happy with it, so I'm hoping you enjoy. Two quick notes tonight. The quote at the beginning is a tribute of sorts - it's from a song that was written by a member of one of my former churches, so if you don't recognize it or the song, don't worry about it. It just fit really well with the first part of the chapter. Second quick note: the phone number given for Charles' friend at the University is bogus. The area code is correct, but the rest of the number is made up - I hope. I did try to check and see if it was a real number and I couldn't get a definite answer, but just to be on the safe side, I don't believe there is any such number for New York University.**_

_**Chapter Twenty-Eight: Dream a Little Dream**_

**"…_I will return, the Truth will be free if you_**

**_Dream a little dream with me_**

**_Dream and you will be free._**

**_Your soul will rise and your spirit will sing_**

**_If you dream a little dream with me."_**

**_- "Dream a Little Dream" by Kent Maxson_**

"_Lizzie?" Charles couldn't believe his eyes. He hadn't seen his wife in eighteen years. She was __**dead**__! But now…she was standing in front of him._

_No…it had to be a trick. In eighteen years, he'd never once had a dream this vivid, let alone one of Lizzie coming to him like this. The only dreams he'd had about her had been memories of their brief time together._

_Still, he couldn't help but wonder…_

"_Is…is it really you?" he whispered._

"_It's me, Charles," she replied quietly, reaching out and laying her hand against his cheek._

_Charles closed his eyes for a moment, reveling in her touch. Her hand was soft and smooth, and her touch invoked many memories, some wonderful and beautiful, and some heart-wrenching and bitter. He opened his eyes again quickly, afraid that she would have vanished again._

_She still stood in front of him, quietly beautiful, watching him with soft green eyes. She lowered her hand from his face, but only to take his hand in hers. "Come with me, Charles. There's a time and a place for what you've seen, but it's not now."_

_Numbly, still in shock over her appearance, he followed her without a word as the scene he had been watching disappeared into blackness. The only light was coming from the faint glow that surrounded her. Pale and golden, it only accentuated her beauty as it reflected off her sun-kissed blonde hair and smooth, creamy skin._

"_Lizzie…how are you here?" Charles whispered._

"_It's complicated, Charles. Before you were dreaming, but your bond with Elizabeth linked you into her dreams. Your bond has the potential to be very strong, and that is something that both of you should work on developing. There are things about her life that you're not ready to know yet, things that you shouldn't have seen. At the moment, however, we're in what some would call limbo – it's not exactly the astral plane that you're familiar with, but it is something beyond a dream."_

_Part of that made no sense to him, but he knew that if he had been in a more rational frame of mind, he might have been able to puzzle out her meaning. At the moment he was still too surprised to see her, and his scientific curiosity had been suppressed by his more emotional side. "Lizzie…"_

_She pulled him to a stop. There was nothing around them except complete darkness, which was pierced only by that odd golden glow that enveloped her. Reaching out, she took his other hand and held it, so that their hands were joined as they had been on the day when they had married._

"_Charles, now isn't the time," she interrupted him. "I have always been with you when you needed me, but I don't have long, and there are some things that you must know."_

_He blinked in confusion. "I…"_

"_Please," she pleaded. "It's important that you understand this. There's a great deal that I can't tell you, because you have to learn it from our daughter, but I'll tell you what I can." Lizzie fixed him with those sharp green eyes as she waited for him to acknowledge what she was saying. After a moment, he nodded reluctantly._

"_I'm listening, Lizzie," he whispered, unable to bring his voice any higher. Something about this place, about seeing her again…it invoked a feeling of solemnity – as if he wasn't supposed to raise his voice._

_His wife smiled in relief. "There is a great plan for everyone, Charles. My death wasn't a random accident or a tragedy brought about by misfortune. I was meant to die bringing Elizabeth into the world. It wouldn't have mattered if we had married sooner and had other children…when Elizabeth was born, I would have died, regardless. It wasn't your fault, or my fault, or Susan's fault. It was simply my fate."_

"_I don't believe in fate," Charles reminded her. They'd had many conversations over the years about a 'grand design' or a 'fated destiny' for everyone. Even though they were both scientists, Lizzie had always liked to believe that not everything was left up to chance, that there had to be a reason behind everything, even if people didn't fully understand it. But Charles' mind was too scientific, too analytical. He could not bring himself to admit that the possibility existed that everything was preplanned for each person. For the most part, they had agreed to disagree._

"_You're going to need to start," Lizzie told him. "You and Elizabeth both have your own fated destinies, and each of you will play an important role in the other's." She fixed him with an intensely serious look. "Our daughter has a very important destiny, Charles. She is more powerful than you know, and the fate of the world may hinge on her – and on you accepting her when she finally tells you the things she's been holding back."_

"_The fate of the world…is on our daughter?" He knew his tone had to be filled with skepticism._

"_It very well might be," she reiterated. "The most important thing you can do is love her, get to know her, and accept her, Charles. The rest will come in time."_

_He shook his head, wanting to understand what she was saying, but having trouble believing it. "Lizzie…I..."_

"_You need to have faith, Charles. Learn to accept what Elizabeth is going to tell you…and try to understand what hides in the shadows if you want to understand her."_

"_I…I don't understand any of this."_

"_You're not meant to. Not yet. When you need to know, you will. But right now its time for you to go back. The waking world is arriving." She released his hands and started to step back._

"_Lizzie…please, don't leave me again," Charles begged her. "I…I can't…"_

"_I've always been with you Charles – and with Susan, Elizabeth, Moira, and my parents. I've never stopped loving any of you, and I'm always watching over you, even if you can't see me." She smiled sadly and again reached out to touch his face. "I've missed you so much…but we'll be together again someday. Just keep your focus on Elizabeth and your X-Men – and know how much I love you." She leaned forward and gently kissed him, her lips ghosting over his as gently as a moth's wings._

_As she pulled back, Charles felt tears sliding down his cheeks. "Lizzie…please…stay…"_

"_I can't, Charles. My time has passed, as it was meant to. I don't have a place in your world anymore. But my love will always be with you."_

_The soft golden glow that surrounded her brightened for a second. Then it – and she – faded from his sight, leaving him alone in the darkness._

"_Lizzie!"_

_Her voice drifted back to him. "Good-bye, Charles."_

* * *

Charles woke with a start. "Lizzie?" he called. It took almost a full minute before he remembered where he was, and he clenched his eyes tightly shut.

_Why did it have to be a dream?_ he wondered. It had been so vivid…so real…he would have been willing to swear that Lizzie had actually been there. He could still feel the touch of her hand on his cheek, the sensation of her lips on his. He sat up slowly, awkwardly, before he buried his face in his hands.

The pain of seeing her leave him again…it racked him deeply. Her loss still cut into him, and part of him knew that he should be glad that he had had a chance to talk to her again, but the pain was just too much. Was he losing his mind?

The strain and the stress he'd been under lately was abnormal for him, and in the midst of it, he had the most vivid dream he'd ever had. What was wrong with him? He felt like he was losing all of his control.

A soft tapping on his door made him look up before he reached over to the beside table and clicked on the lamp. "Come in," he called softly.

The door edged open and his daughter stuck her head into the room. "Dad, are you all right?" she asked, her blonde hair slightly mussed from sleep. "I heard you call out."

"I-I'm fine, Elizabeth," he assured her. "It was just a particularly vivid dream. I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay," she told him with a small smile. "I told you I'm a light sleeper." She took a step further into the room. "Are you sure you're all right? You're – you're crying."

It was only then that he felt the moisture on his face. Blinking quickly, he reached up and wiped the tears away. "I'm fine. Go back to bed, Elizabeth. I'll see you in the morning."

She looked skeptical as she watched him for several more seconds, but she finally nodded. "Okay. Good night."

"Good night, my dear." He waited until she had left and pulled the door closed behind herself before he turned off the light and slid back down to a prone position. His thoughts immediately turned back to his dream.

Lizzie had said that he and his daughter both had important destinies. If he believed that she had really come to him with a message – which he didn't, anymore than he believed in fate – then he needed to talk to his daughter. But could he believe that she had really come to him?

No, he couldn't. It had to be a product of his own mind. If she had really come to him, surely she could have come to him before now. She wouldn't have remained silent for eighteen years. He had to be losing his mind – and the idea terrified him.

His mind was too powerful- too dangerous if he lost all control. His powers enabled him to manipulate and affect the minds of others in ways that he couldn't even predict if his powers went rogue. In the morning he needed to take the time to meditate and restore his control and banish the strain that he'd been feeling.

He couldn't afford to lose control.

* * *

_The next morning…_

Buffy yawned as she came downstairs. To her surprise, her father was already in the kitchen, talking quietly with Joyce as they sipped at tea and coffee. Her mom had a bagel with cream cheese in front of her, while her father was working on an English muffin that was lightly toasted and a hard-boiled egg.

"Good morning, sweetheart," Joyce smiled as she caught sight of Buffy standing in the doorway.

"Morning," Buffy replied absently, still surprised to see her father sitting there. How had he gotten downstairs, in a wheelchair, without help? She didn't think her mom was strong enough to safely maneuver him down the stairs without either of them getting hurt.

Perhaps he was reading her thoughts despite her shields, or perhaps he was just reading her face, but he smiled at her, although it was a little distracted. "Good morning, my dear. Again, I am sorry I woke you last night."

Buffy shook her head to dismiss his concern. "Don't worry about it. It didn't stop me from sleeping the rest of the night." She went over to the fridge and reached for a bottle of juice.

"In answer to your question, I have been in a wheelchair for a very long time. One of the first things I learned was the easiest way to descend a set of stairs while in one." There was a bit of a twinkle in his eyes as he spoke, while he watched her face closely.

Buffy blinked in surprise. "How did you – wait, never mind. Telepath." She popped a bagel into the toaster.

Her father's smile widened a little more. "It is a useful gift for gathering information – but like any other power, must be used properly."

"What are your plans for today, Buffy?" Joyce asked as she finished the last of her coffee.

Buffy frowned for a moment as she thought about it. "School, and then I have to meet Willow for a study session for English, and then I have a quick meeting with Giles to talk about college plans."

"I was planning to contact New York University today, Elizabeth. I want to try to work out a way for you to be enrolled there," Charles told her, losing some of the distracted look as he focused on her.

"Dad…you don't have to. I'm pretty sure that I'll end up enrolling at UC Sunnydale." Buffy spread cream cheese on her bagel as she spoke. She hid a wince at the pained look that crossed his face when she told him that.

"I don't see why, Elizabeth. You could come to New York with me after your graduation and live with me at home. It's not far into the city for class, and then I can continue to train you in using your telepathy." Charles looked at her closely. "If it's the cost that you're worried about, the tuition would not be an issue – I will gladly pay it, and you would be more than welcome."

"It – that's really generous, Dad, but there's other things that I'm considering beside the cost. That's why I need to talk to Giles." She glanced at the clock. "Whoops…I gotta book or I'll be late for physics."

"Have a good day, sweetheart," Joyce called as Buffy drained her juice, then grabbed her bagel and headed out of the kitchen.

"Bye!" she called back. They heard the door shut a few seconds later with a _bang_.

Joyce winced briefly before she glanced at the clock as well. "I'm afraid I need to leave too, if I'm going to get the gallery opened on time." She glanced over at Charles as she took her mug and plate to the sink. "Will you be all right today, Dr. Xavier?"

"I'll be fine, Joyce," he assured her. "I'm going to contact my school, call New York University, and go over to my hotel to check out. You don't need to worry about entertaining me. I can find plenty to keep me interested. Sunnydale is very much like Bayville with the amenities that are available."

Joyce only nodded before she too headed out.

Charles sat quietly for another few minutes before he started tidying up the kitchen. Joyce and Buffy were being kind enough to allow him to stay despite her discomfort with the situation – the least he could do was help out in a few small ways.

As he went about his self-appointed task, part of his mind was quietly working through the meditative exercises he'd established for himself years ago when he was learning to control his powers. The exercises he had taught himself helped him to reinforce his shields whenever they felt weak or wavering. He hadn't had a reason to use them in a very long time, but they were so firmly engrained in his mind that it took him no effort to recall them.

_Steady breaths…in…out…in…out…_he told himself. _Picture my shields as a series of walls. Look for the weak spots. In…out…in…out…_

It would only take a few minutes of this and he'd not only be in a more rational frame of mind, but he'd be more in control and he wouldn't feel quite so shaken from his dream. Then he could get in contact with the school and get Logan and Storm working on researching Sunnydale.

* * *

_Sunnydale High School Library…_

"Good morning, Buffy." Giles came out of his office with a cup of tea in one hand and a musty book in the other.

"Morning, Giles." Buffy looked around the room curiously. "Where's Wesley?"

"He is making a trans-Atlantic telephone call to the Council, I believe. He should be in later this morning."

"Oh, good." Buffy walked over to the table and dropped her books before she hopped up to perch on the edge. She toyed with the edge of a book that was sitting beside her.

Giles frowned and moved closer to his Slayer. "What's wrong Buffy?" He set his books on the counter. "You don't seem to be your usual exuberant self this morning."

Buffy sighed. "Just…life stuff, Giles. Nothing's really wrong, I guess." She sighed again. "I'm just tired of playing the "let's dump all kinds of crap on Buffy" game.

"Tell me." Giles came over to stand beside her.

"I heard back from Dr. Xavier last night," Buffy said, not looking at her Watcher. "He got the results of the DNA test back."

Giles looked at her intently. "What were they?"

She didn't respond.

"Buffy?"

A sigh came from the melancholy girl. "They were positive. According to the test, he is my father."

Giles let out a slow breath. When Dr. Xavier had proposed the test, he had honestly thought the other man was delusional. After seeing the information Willow and Angel had gathered, he'd become more convinced that the tragedies the professor had suffered had unbalanced him.

But now…he hadn't expected Dr. Xavier to be telling the truth, and that put a whole mew spin on the situation. The information that Roberta had sent him was quite detailed, and thus far he hadn't had time to finish going through it and verifying all of it. Knowing what they did now, he would have to take a closer look at it – since this new information could greatly impact his Slayer in ways he was certain she hadn't even realized.

"I take it that you're not happy about that?" he hazarded, although he suspected that it was more complicated than that.

"No…I am," she tried to assure him. "I like him, and he seems to genuinely care about me. He's already told me that he won't try to take me away from Mom or force me to choose between her and him. But I just don't know what he expects from me – and I think he really wants me to go to New York with him after graduation."

"That doesn't sound like a bad thing," Giles ventured.

"No, and if it wasn't for the Hellmouth, I'd go in a heartbeat," she agreed. "But I can't leave the Hellmouth unguarded, and getting Faith to guard it is not an option anymore." She sighed again. "But I can't tell him _why_ I'm probably going to end up enrolling at UC Sunnydale until I tell him about being the Slayer…and I'm afraid of how he'll react. Mom already rejected me once…if he does too, I can't take it."

Giles understood her fears. According to the Council, the Slayer was supposed to operate with just her Watcher. Of course, he had quickly realized within days – hours – of meeting Buffy that he couldn't keep her friends from knowing her secret or helping her. While he wished that he'd been there to help Buffy explain things to Joyce – it might have gone better if he had been – he could also understand her worries about Dr. Xavier not understanding.

"And you were hoping that I could tell you what to do?" he wondered, although he suspected that was the reason that she had come to talk to him – and the reason she'd called him last night.

She nodded quietly. "I know this is supposed to be a secret…but I don't want to drive him away. I want to trust him, but I also don't want him to have to worry about the things that go 'bump' in the night. My world is so dangerous…I don't want to put him in any danger." She looked up at him. "Help me, Giles?"

He reached out and hugged her gently. "Always," he promised. "We'll work it out together, all right?"

She threw her arms around him and hugged him so tightly that he couldn't breathe for a moment. "Thanks, Giles."

"A-air."

She released him, and as she pulled back he noticed something gold sparkling at her neck. He didn't normally pay attention to what she wore, and especially jewelry, as long as she wore a cross for protection, but the gold and silver pendant caught his eye. "What's that, Buffy?"

"Dad…Dr. Xavier, I mean – he said it belonged to my mom," she told him. "He held onto it for all these years because he was hoping that he could give it to me someday."

Giles nodded, noting, as Buffy had, that it was indeed a gesture that showed that the professor cared about his daughter. He thought about what Buffy was asking him. "Buffy, the Council would tell me that I should forbid you to mention anything to Dr. Xavier – but you've proved over the last three years that having friends and family who care about you and know your secret has given you a reason to fight, to beat the odds. I think the question you need to ask yourself is not whether or not he'll accept what you tell him, but whether or not you think it will help your relationship with him – and if he'll be in danger if you do or don't tell him."

* * *

_Buffy's House…_

…_and out._

One long, slow exhalation more and Charles opened his eyes. After tidying up the kitchen – working the whole time on his mental exercises – he had retreated to the living room to complete his meditations.

He was still somewhat puzzled over the dream from the night before, but at the moment, there was nothing he could do about it, and he felt more in control and less off-balance emotionally than he had been earlier. If it had been real, then according to Lizzie he still had time before he needed to dwell on it, since he needed to wait for his daughter to decide to tell him whatever it was she was keeping from him.

So…he couldn't do anything about it for now. It was time to turn his attention to other matters – namely, trying to figure out how to get his daughter enrolled in New York University, and also setting Logan or Storm to work in researching Sunnydale.

He reached into his jacket and removed his cell phone. He quickly dialed the number for the school and held it up to his ear.

"_Hello, this is the Xavier Institute for Gifted Students. How may I help you?"_ Storm's rich voice answered after several rings.

"Ororo, its Charles."

"_Charles! Did you make contact with your daughter?"_ the weather witch's voice was full of suppressed anxiety and excitement for him.

"Yes, Ororo, I did. She took the news remarkably well. Mrs. Summers, on the other hand, wasn't quite as enthusiastic about it – but she seems to have accepted the idea intellectually at least. I suspect it will take some time before she can accept it emotionally."

"_Well, that's only natural, and you were expecting that, weren't you?"_

"To an extent yes. However, that's not the reason that I am calling."

"_What can we do?"_ Ororo asked immediately, which brought a smile to his face. He so rarely asked anything of his students and his friends that when he did need their help they jumped to provide it.

"There are two things I would like you to do, if you don't mind. First, I need you to look up a number for me. It will probably be on the internet if it's not in the Rolodex on my desk."

"_Just a minute, Charles. I'm right outside your office now." _He heard the door open and a moment later she spoke again. "_What number do you need?"_

"It should be for Dr. Michael Fitzgerald. He was a colleague when I worked at New York University. I lost touch with him, but the last I heard he was the Dean of the Science department there. I'm looking to get Elizabeth enrolled at the University, and I'm hoping that he can help."

"_Let me look." _He heard a click as she set the phone down on the desk, but he knew she hadn't hung up because he could hear her muttering quietly to herself as she paged through his Rolodex looking for the number. After about a minute, she picked the phone back up. "_I've got it, Charles. The number is 212-998-6845_. _That's the number you have listed for his work number."_

"Thank you, Ororo. It will give me a place to start at least. The other thing I would like either you or Logan to do is to use Cerebro and see what information you can locate about the town of Sunnydale. Something odd is going on here – given what Elizabeth told us about the gangs and the violence – and I never thought to research the town itself when I was gathering information about her."

"_I understand. Is there anything specific that you'd like us to search for?"_

"Just anything you can find, no matter how odd it seems to be. I'll try to get over to the public library and take a look at some of the town records myself while I'm here, but I'd like to see what else the two of you can dig up. Bring Logan in on this. I know he hates to research, but he has some good instincts, and he may think of something that you or I wouldn't."

"_We'll get started on it right away,"_ Ororo promised. _"Is there anything else?"_

"I don't believe so. I'll check back in by Sunday and see what you've found, and also find out how the students are doing," Charles told her.

"_I think they're still a little shocked over the news, but they seem to be handling it well enough for now."_

"Let them know that unless something major comes up, I'll probably be back in two weeks or so, and I'll want to assess their progress. They'll need to be ready to be tested when I get back."

"_I'll tell them…actually, I think I'll let Logan tell them. He'll have fun tormenting them with the idea of a major exam on their control and ability."_

Charles had to laugh at that. "I think you're right. Thank you again, Ororo. I'll call again in a couple of days."

"_All right, Charles. I wish you the best in dealing with your daughter and Mrs. Summers."_

"Thank you. Good-bye."

"_Good-bye, Professor."_

* * *

_Library…_

Buffy frowned. "I don't suppose you can just tell me what I should do. A simple 'yes' or 'no' would be enough."

Giles smiled and removed his glasses. "Only you can decide, Buffy. Nothing is pressing you to make a decision right now."

Buffy bit her lip. "I know…but I hate having to carry this weight…and I'm sort of afraid that he might pick it up from me telepathically. I'd hate for him to find out that way."

"Then perhaps the best thing to do is just to tell him," the ex-Watcher pointed out calmly.

Buffy sighed. "I was sort of hoping for a little more help here, Giles…but I suppose you're right. I'll think about it for a few more days – will you help me tell him if I decide to?"

"Of course." The bell shrilled overhead and Giles smiled. "Run along to class and I'll see you after school for training and research."

"Okay. Thanks, Giles!"

_**Don't forget to leave me a happy review for another quick update!**_


	31. Chapter 30: Looking for Answers

_**Chapter Thirty: Looking for Answers**_

"_**Sometimes questions are more important than answers.**__**"**_

_- Nancy Willard, poet and writer_

_Bayville…New York…Friday morning…_

"Auntie O?" Evan touched Storm's arm as he slung his backpack over his shoulders. "Can I ask you something?"

"What is it, Evan?" Storm smiled at her nephew. Having him here was wonderful, although she was still concerned about the way he treated school and his responsibilities. Perhaps it was the fact that he was still one of the youngest members of the team. In another year or so, he might finally start putting more effort into his schoolwork and his responsibilities. She knew that Professor Xavier was concerned about his attitude, but was willing to give him time.

Evan bit his lip for a moment. "I know that I'm technically still grounded because of what happened with Sabretooth…but would it be okay if I went to the public library after school to work on my homework instead of coming straight home?"

Ororo blinked in surprise. This had to be the first time that Evan had asked to go to the public library – or even shown an interest in it. The library in the mansion had many of the same books that the public library did, as well as many that they didn't. Usually the students had no problem finding materials to work on their homework. "Do you have a research project to do?"

Evan nodded. "Yeah. Mr. Vandemeer assigned us a project on Bayville's history. He wants us to look up something important about the city and present it to the class. I was hoping to check out the old newspapers and stuff, since the Professor doesn't have them here."

Ororo hesitated for a moment. She wanted to trust Evan, but he did have a habit of ducking out on his responsibilities to go skateboarding or to play around with his friends that weren't part of the Institute. "You'll go right to the library and then come right home when you're done?"

Evan nodded. "Kurt was going to go with me. We both have Vandemeer, but we're in different classes. He has the same project."

Before Ororo could respond, Kurt entered the room and she turned to him. "Kurt, did Mr. Vandemeer assign you a project on Bayville's history?"

Kurt nodded. "_Ja…_a five page paper due next Friday, with an oral presentation in front of the class."

"Were you and Evan going to go to the library this afternoon?" she questioned.

"I was. Evan wasn't sure if he'd be able to because of his punishment," Kurt said.

Storm turned back to Evan. "All right Evan, you can go, as long as you stay with Kurt the entire time – and I want to see your notes when you get home this afternoon."

Evan leaned up and kissed her on the cheek. "Thanks, Auntie O!"

She returned his kiss and then shooed him towards the door. "You'd better hurry, or you'll both be late!" As they headed for the door, she called after them. "Make sure you're back by dinner!"

"Will do!" Evan called back as he dropped his skateboard on the driveway and pushed off, Kurt jogging beside him. Storm closed the door behind them before she turned away. Now that the kids were gone for the day, it was time to find Logan and get started on the research that Charles had asked them to do.

* * *

"Evan, what are you up to?" Kurt asked as he walked beside his friend. Most of the time they caught a ride into school with Scott, but he'd had to leave earlier than the rest of them that morning because he had to meet with his English teacher.

"What do you mean?" Evan asked, casting a glance at his friend before he sped up slightly and jumped his board over a bus stop bench.

"I've never known you to ask to go to the library," Kurt said pointedly. "Does this have to do with the Professor?"

"Maybe a little," Evan said. "But from everything that he's told us, the mansion's been in his family for a long time, right?"

Kurt nodded slowly. "_Ja."_

"Which means that his family must have been here for a long time, right?" Evan smiled as Kurt nodded again. "That means that Professor Xavier – or his ancestors at least – must have been important to Bayville in some way. I can do my project on that, and see what else I can find out about the Prof's wife and daughter."

A look of dread crossed Kurt's face for a moment. "I don't know about this, Evan…"

"Trust me, Kurt. It'll work out great, and I'll show my paper to Auntie O before I turn it in. I'll even show it to the Professor if he's back before its due."

"_Ich __habe __ein __schlechtes __Gefühl __bei __dieser __Sache__…"_ Kurt muttered in his native tongue.

* * *

_Buffy's House…Friday afternoon…_

Charles sighed as he hung up his phone and tucked it back into his jacket pocket. He'd just spoken with Dr. Fitzgerald, who – while pleased to hear from him – hadn't had time to really talk to him because he'd had a class in ten minutes. He'd promised to call back during his office hours the next day. It was a start, but he'd been hoping to have something more concrete to tell his daughter when she came home later.

While he wouldn't force her to come back to New York with him after her graduation, he did want her to seriously consider it. He didn't know what could possibly be tying her to Sunnydale, but surely it wouldn't keep her from wanting to be with her family – after all, her home was there, and so were he and her godmother. Her grandparents were only a few hours away. The only "family" she had in California was Joyce.

He glanced at the clock. It was almost five, and he still needed to go over to the hotel to check out. After spending most of the morning meditating and working on reestablishing his control and his shields, he'd spent the rest of the day trying to get hold of Michael. Since he didn't have a key to his daughter's house, he would have to wait for Elizabeth or Joyce to come home – but he had no idea how long they would be.

Just then, his phone rang and he fished it out of his pocket. It couldn't possibly be Michael, since he'd just hung up with the other professor. He checked the display and recognized the school's number. Frowning now, wondering if there was a problem with the students, he flipped open the phone and spoke. "Hello?"

"_Yeah, Chuck. It's Logan."_

"What is it, Logan? Is there something wrong with the school or the students?"

"_Nah, nothin' like that. Ororo and I did that research that you asked us to. We found some interestin' stuff."_

Some of his worry eased by knowing that nothing was wrong at home, Charles let out a slow breath. "I was going to check in on Sunday, Logan. You didn't have to call right away. It wasn't urgent."

"_That's what Storm said, but this was weird enough that I thought ya might wanna know."_

That caught his interest. He and Logan had both seen any number of odd things over the years that they'd known each other. "Oh?"

"_Yeah." _Charles heard Logan muttering to someone – most likely Storm, and then the sound of typing. _"Ok…first thing, just some basics…town's got nearly forty thousand people, an airport, a harbor, a zoo, a museum, a small private college – Crestwood College, and a couple of high schools – Sunnydale High, Kent Preparatory, Miss Porter's All Girls School, and Fondren High."_

"Unusual for a small town, but those are all fairly attractive amenities," Charles commented.

"_I'm just getting started Chuck. That's the mildest of what we've found. According to this, there's also twelve cemeteries, and forty-three churches."_

Charles blinked. "I'm sorry? Logan, did you actually say _twelve_ cemeteries and _forty-three_ churches?"

"_According to the city website, yeah."_

That was…extraordinary, and Charles still couldn't believe that the number was accurate. "I find that…hard to believe."

"_There's more. The current Mayor is listed as Richard Wilkins the third…the grandson of the first Mayor and town founder, Richard Wilkins. The town's going to be a hundred years old in about a month, but according to the history listed on the website, there was also a Spanish mission there, and settlements of Navajo and Chumash Indians before the town was founded."_

It was quite a rich history for such a small town. "Did you find anything else? Elizabeth keeps stressing that there are a lot of gangs and violence in this area, but if anything it seems to be more peaceful than Bayville."

"_We're still looking. Cerebro's pulling data, but we started with the most obvious source – the city website."_

Before he could respond, he heard the sound of a key in the front door lock. A moment later, the door opened and Joyce stepped in, closing the door behind her. "All right, Logan. Keep me informed if you find anything else. If not, I'll check in on Sunday as I planned," Charles said.

"_Will do, Chuck._"

Charles closed the phone and tucked it back into his jacket. "Good afternoon, Joyce."

"Hello," she said, her tone mildly neutral. That didn't really surprise him. Despite their conversation earlier that morning, she still didn't trust him and his motives. He honestly hadn't expected her to. The news that he was Elizabeth's biological father had to be a shock, and the fact that she was at least willing to consider it was more flexibility than he had expected. "Is Buffy home yet?"

"Not yet," he told her. "She did say something about a study session with her friend Willow this afternoon."

Joyce nodded. "She'll be home soon then. I'm sure she's trying to get all her homework done so she can go to the Bronze with her friends tonight."

"Since you're here, I need to go over to my hotel and check out," he said, before he paused. "That is, if you don't mind my continuing to stay here?"

Joyce bit her lip for a moment, before she shook her head. "I don't mind. Buffy's right that you'll be safer here than in a hotel. I still don't know what to think of everything, but I know that Buffy will be very upset if something happens to you." She eyed him closely. "I don't trust you, Doctor, but for the moment, I'll trust Buffy's judgment."

Charles nodded. "I hope to earn your trust, Joyce. All I want is to be a part of my daughter's life." He moved his chair towards the door. "I will be back shortly, if she asks."

He moved past her and out the front door, pulling it closed behind himself. It only took him a few seconds to get his chair down the porch steps and down the sidewalk. For a moment, he wondered if he should consider renting a car while he was here. It would make getting around somewhat easier. But he also didn't know how long he would be in Sunnydale, so the cost could end up being somewhat high.

After a moment's inner debate, he decided that for the time being he wouldn't bother with renting a car. Sunnydale was a small town, and he didn't have any need to go anywhere that his wheelchair couldn't take him. He was here only to get to know his daughter and to find out about her life.

He started to head towards the downtown area of Sunnydale. It would probably only take him fifteen minutes to get to the hotel, another five to ten to check out and pay for the room, and then fifteen minutes to get back to Elizabeth's house. And after being inside all day, getting out and having a chance to enjoy the beautiful weather of late spring in southern California – which was quite different from spring in New York – was more than worth having to run a quick errand.

_And to think, there was a time when I kept myself shut in for days or weeks at a time._ In those first few years after Lizzie's death and Elizabeth's disappearance, he'd become a complete recluse. His only thought had been to find his daughter, and he had spent weeks at a time pouring over newspaper articles, criminal statistics, and anything that David Walker had been able to dig up regarding children named Elizabeth or infant girls of the right age. When they had found nothing and even David had called off the search, he had continued to keep himself shut away, devoting his time to his genetics research, and also to trying to find some way of tracking his daughter through the mutant powers he was certain that she would have inherited from him. It was during those years that Cerebro had been created – by combing his scientific knowledge and his telepathic abilities. It had taken years and many failed attempts before he had managed to build the first rudimentary device that had later – after many upgrades and new incarnations – become Cerebro.

Had he not spent all those years locked away, he might never have created Cerebro, and as a result he might never have discovered his X-Men, or his daughter. So, in many ways, those years of solitude had paid off for him – but he did wonder, now that he was able to look back, if it had really been worth it. He had alienated himself from what family he had left – Lizzie's parents, Moira, Susan, and his friends in the academic and scientific communities.

At least now – or rather, when he got back to Bayville, hopefully _with_ his daughter – he could begin to make amends.

* * *

_Bayville Public Library…afternoon…_

Evan entered the library with Kurt and looked around. He'd been in here once before, when he'd walked with Kitty so she could drop off a book that she'd checked out, but he'd never done any real research here. The Professor's library was amazing, and he was always adding new books and references, so he'd had little reason to come down to the public library.

"What are you doing your project on, Kurt?" Evan asked.

Kurt shrugged. "Don't know. I'm just going to pull some books and see if anything catches my eye."

Evan nodded. "Okay. I guess I need to find the old newspapers…" He looked around, a little bit lost.

Kurt grabbed his shoulder and pointed him at the reference desk. "I'd ask over there first." Giving him a little shove, he turned in the opposite direction and headed for the card catalogue.

Evan shrugged and headed for the reference desk. When the librarian looked up at him from what she was typing, he smiled at her. "Hi. Um…I have a school project to do on Bayville's history, and I was wondering if you had any old newspaper articles or something."

"We do, on microfilm. Is there something specific that you're researching?" she asked.

"Well…I don't know exactly, but I was hoping to do some research on the Xavier family. Professor Xavier is my mentor, and he mentioned once that his family has been here for a long time…"

The librarian frowned in thought for a moment before she turned to her computer. She typed something in and then scanned the screen. "I checked the listings that we have for the _Record_, and there does seem to be several articles listed. Do you know what time period you were hoping to cover?"

"Not really. I thought I would just do some research on his family and see if there was anything interesting that I could expand on…maybe a contribution that was made to the town, or an important politician?"

She nodded and turned back to her computer again. She clicked on the mouse and a moment later a page came off of her printer. Scooping it up, she moved out from behind the desk. "Come with me, young man." She led him towards the back of the library to a small room with the words "Audio-Visual Room" on a plaque on the door. "Have you ever used a microfilm reader before?"

Evan shook his head.

"All right. This page has all the articles that might have something on the topic you're looking for from the _Record_. Over here in these drawers are all the microfilms, organized by year and month." She quickly located the first article that was listed on the page before taking it over to the machine, where she gave Evan a brief rundown of how to load the film and how to progress it.

"When you finish with one reel, make sure you wind it back up and put it back in the right spot," she instructed finally.

"Okay, and thanks! This'll help me out a lot," Evan told her. "I appreciate you taking the time Ms…" he trailed off as he realized he didn't know her name.

"Mrs. Preston," she told him. "You're welcome young man. Just be gentle with the films. If you need anything, I'll be out at the desk." Turning, she left the room, pulling the door closed behind her.

Evan looked at the list of articles that she had given him and sighed. It was probably going to take days to get through all of them – but the articles were in order from newest to oldest, so it shouldn't be too hard for him to find out information about Professor Xavier's wife and daughter.

He dug into his backpack for a notebook and a pencil before he turned his attention to the machine and started scanning the first paper that Mrs. Preston had pulled up for him.

* * *

_Sunnydale…_

Charles left the hotel and turned his chair back in the direction of Elizabeth's house. It had taken longer than he had expected to get to the hotel and check out – which was causing him to reconsider his decision about renting a car. Perhaps tomorrow he would make a few phone calls and see if he could find a place that would bring a car to him – and if that didn't work out, he'd ask Joyce or Elizabeth to drive him to a rental agency.

He glanced up and noticed that the sun was nearly about to set, and sighed. He would probably be late for the dinner that Mrs. Summers was preparing, but hopefully not _too_ late. He didn't want them to feel like they needed to put their lives on hold for him when he was the one intruding into their routines. For today, however, there wasn't much that he could do about it. He hadn't wanted to leave before Joyce or Elizabeth were home, since he didn't have a key to their house, and he had underestimated the amount of time it would take him to make his way down to the hotel.

Although, in a way, this might be beneficial to him. He still had yet to see any sign of the violence and the gangs that his daughter, Mr. Giles, and Mrs. Summers all claimed to run rampant through Sunnydale at night. This might give him a chance to see just what it was they feared so much. Despite his daughter's warning that his telepathic powers wouldn't protect him if he was attacked, he was fairly certain that he would be safe enough. She still didn't fully understand the numerous ways that telepathy could be used offensively – and even though it was something he tried not to do unless he had no other choice, he wouldn't hesitate if it meant protecting himself.

As the sun sank closer and closer to the horizon, however, he found that the streets were very quiet. He could hear and see cars moving along the streets as families headed for home, and in the distance he could hear the sound of voices, but there was no sign of the level of violence that his daughter claimed Sunnydale turned into at night. It was a curious dichotomy between her claims and the evidence that was in front of him.

"Doctor Xavier?" a voice called.

Charles stopped his chair at the sound of his voice and turned his head to locate the person calling out to him. A moment later he saw a tall man heading in his direction. He didn't recognize the man, but other than Angel and Mr. Giles, he had yet to meet any of Sunnydale's residents.

"Doctor Charles Xavier?" the man asked as he approached and stopped a few feet away.

Charles nodded slowly as he studied the man. He was probably about 5-foot-eight, with dark brown hair and eyes. He was paler than Charles would have expected for a resident of Southern California, but perhaps the man simply didn't get out that much. He wore a neatly pressed suit, but didn't appear comfortable with the outfit.

"Doctor Xavier, I'm here on behalf of Mayor Wilkins. He heard that you were in town and he asked me to find you and invite you over to City Hall. He has a matter that he is eager to discuss with you."

Charles frowned. Other than his daughter and her mother, his students, and perhaps Mr. Giles, no one knew that he was in Sunnydale. How had the Mayor learned of it? "I would be pleased to talk to Mayor Wilkins, but is there any chance that it could wait until tomorrow? I was just on my way back to my daughter's house – and it's a little late for the Mayor to still be working, isn't it?"

The stranger shook his head. "Mayor Wilkins often works late, but I'm afraid that he won't be available for several days other than tonight, because of prior obligations. He wasn't sure how long you were intending to stay in Sunnydale, and he wanted to meet with you as soon as possible. It shouldn't take more than a half hour of your time."

Charles hesitated. There was something very odd about this – but he had no reason to outright refuse – and it would be rude to refuse the Mayor after he'd taken the trouble of sending someone to find him. For a moment, he considered probing the man's mind, but finally realized that the man probably knew nothing more than he'd been told and it would be a waste of time and an invasion of the man's privacy.

"All right, but I'll need to call my daughter and let her know that I'll be late for dinner, since I'm sure she'll be expecting me soon," he finally said, reaching for his cell phone.

As he drew it out of his pocket, the man suddenly moved. One moment he was standing in front of Charles, and the next moment he was beside him, holding Charles' wrist in a painfully powerful grip as he wrenched the phone out of his grasp. "I'm afraid not, Doctor. You need to come with me, _right now_." The last was said with a bit of a growl that was reminiscent of Logan's voice when he was angry – although Charles had never heard such a sinister tone of malice in Wolverine's voice.

Narrowing his gaze, Charles dropped his mental shields and sent a telepathic bolt at his attacker, with enough strength behind it to drop the man cold. It didn't matter how strong the man was physically – Charles was certain that his mental powers were more adept and stronger than the man was prepared for.

Nothing happened.

Charles blinked in surprise, even as his attacker tightened his grip on his wrist. _How…?_

Before he could finish the thought, something impacted the back of his head, and everything went black.

* * *

_Sunnydale High Library…early Friday evening…_

_Whap! Snap! Crack!_

Giles looked up from the book he was consulting with a small smile on his face. It was nice to see someone else getting a dose of Buffy's martial arts prowess for once, rather than feeling it himself. Wesley had insisted on putting Buffy through her paces that afternoon since she had been – in his mind – neglecting her training sessions. Of course, she'd had good reason, what with dealing with her newly-discovered father. But Wesley didn't know that, and Giles was in agreement with Buffy that he didn't need to know it at the moment – not until they could be sure he wouldn't run to the Council with the news.

The documents that Roberta had provided had been insightful, but Giles still wasn't ready to share them with Buffy or Dr. Xavier. There was some more checking that he needed to do, and right now the Ascension had to be their top priority.

_Slap! _Giles stifled a smile at the groan that followed Buffy's most recent attack. At the moment, Wesley was holding a set of pads and was drilling the Slayer through her repertoire of punches, kicks, and blocks. Having been there more times than he cared to count and having invested in _very_ good ice packs for his inevitably bruised arms, he didn't envy Wesley his Watcher duties at the moment. Although it did appear that Buffy wasn't being as gentle with Wesley as she had learned to be with him.

The "drilling" went on for several more minutes before Wesley finally gasped out "Enough!" As Buffy froze, inches from landing one last kick to the pads, he nodded. "That's – that's very good Buffy," he wheezed, trying to catch his breath after the onslaught.

"It wasn't bad," Giles agreed. "But you're still dropping your left shoulder, and your roundhouse kick is a little sloppy if you rush into it instead of taking time to set yourself."

Buffy listened to his criticisms and nodded. "Okay, thanks Giles. I'll work on those."

"Mr. Giles, I believe that as Buffy's Watcher, it is my job to critique her technique?" Wesley said, his tone affronted as he recovered his breath.

Giles shrugged. "I was just trying to help by telling her what I noticed while you were catching your breath. But if you'd prefer, I won't say anything from now on." He turned back to the book he had been studying.

"I – I wasn't saying that!" Wesley sputtered after a moment as Giles and Buffy both snickered softly in response.

Buffy picked up a towel and wiped at the faint sheen of sweat on her face. She wandered over to where Giles was working and leaned over his shoulder. "Anything new, Giles?"

Giles sighed heavily and lowered the book. "I'm afraid not, Buffy, and unless we find out more, either from the Mayor or from Faith – or the Council comes up with something – we're going to run out of resources."

Buffy grimaced. "I don't like not knowing what's coming, Giles. How can I fight if I don't know what to expect?"

Giles opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by the sound of the telephone ringing. He frowned and rose to his feet to answer it. "Sunnydale High School, this is Rupert Giles." He listened for a moment. "Yes, Mrs. Summers, Buffy's right here." He turned to Buffy. "It's your mother."

Buffy frowned slightly in response and walked over to take the receiver from him. "Mom?"

"_Buffy, are you training?" _Joyce asked.

"Um, just finished, actually. Why, what's wrong?"

"_Nothing's wrong dear, I just wondered how long I should hold dinner for. Doctor Xavier left about an hour ago to go to his hotel to check out, so I expect him back any time, but I was just wondering how long you'd be tonight."_

"Wait, slow down Mom. Dad left? Alone?" Buffy's eyes darted to the clock hanging on the wall above Giles' office door. According to the clock, the sun should have set almost a half hour ago.

"_About an hour ago, yes,"_ Joyce replied.

Buffy bit her lip, suddenly worried. "Go ahead and eat if you want, Mom. I don't know how long I'll be, and I'm going to go and try to find Dad. I didn't realize it was so late, or I would have been home already. I was going to walk over to the hotel with him. I'm going to leave in a few minutes and I'll walk over there and see if I can find him and walk him home."

"_All right, dear. I'll leave plates warming in the oven for both of you, then,_" Joyce replied. "_I'll see you soon."_

Buffy nodded before remembering that her mother wasn't there. "Yeah, okay, Mom. See you later." She hung up the phone and headed for where she'd left her bag.

Wesley had been listening to the conversation with interest. "Buffy? I wasn't aware that your father was in town. I thought he lived in Los Angeles."

Buffy glanced up absently. "Huh? No, he lives in New York, actually," she corrected.

It was Wesley's turn to frown. "Really? He moved recently? The Council's records still have him listed in Los Angeles."

Buffy picked up her head and stared at Wesley in confusion. "What are you talking about? Dad never lived in Los Angeles."

Now Wesley looked confused. "Certainly he did – you and your mother lived there with him prior to the divorce." His frown deepened. "Buffy, are you feeling quite all right?"

"Prior to the…oh! You're talking about Hank Summers!" Buffy realized. "No, that's not who I was talking about. I was talking about Dr. Xavier, my biological father," she told the confused Watcher.

"Your biological father – " Wesley's face changed from one of confusion to one that was completely flabbergasted. "Buffy, what _are_ you talking about?"

Buffy stared at the pompous young Watcher for a moment before she realized what she'd said in her distraction. "Um…" she glanced from Wesley to Giles, who was watching the back and forth conversation as if it was a tennis match. "…oops?"

Giles shook his head. "So much for keeping it quiet, Buffy." He looked at the Slayer. "What's wrong, Buffy?"

"Um…according to Mom, Dad left the house earlier to go and check out of the hotel, but he's not back yet, and it's after sunset," Buffy said. "I told him that it was dangerous at night, but apparently he wasn't paying attention or he didn't really believe me."

"Oh dear," Giles said, reaching up and removing his glasses. "I take it you're going to go and look for him?"

"Yeah. Right now, actually. There's probably nothing wrong, but he'd be a prime target for the vamps." Buffy slung her bag over her shoulder and turned on her heel, heading for the door. "Giles, I'm sorry, but could you - ?"

"I'll explain everything, Buffy," he called after her as she shoved the door open and exited the library.

"Mr. Giles, _what is going on_?" Wesley demanded, for once not sounding like a petulant child. "Am I to understand that you've been keeping information about the Slayer from me, when you were expressly ordered not to interfere with her any longer?"

Giles looked at Wesley for a moment. "Exactly."

* * *

**German Translations:**  
_Ja_: Yes  
_Ich habe ein schlechtes Gefühl bei dieser Sache…_: I have a bad feeling about this...

_**Don't forget to read and review!**_


	32. Chapter 31: Tangled Webs

**Author's Note: Hey all! I must thank all of you for the wonderful reviews. I love seeing your speculations about what I am going to do next...it's amazingly inspiring. We're going to pick up the pace a bit with this chapter - this chapter and the next one are going to intersect with the BtVS Season 3 episode "Choices"...and boy was this one a pain to write! For the first time I had to tackle writing bad! Faith and our favorite, loveably evil Mayor Wilkins! Let me know how I did, huh?**

_**Chapter Thirty-One: Tangled Webs**_

_**"Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive."**_

_**- Sir Walter Scott**_

_Bayville…Xavier Institute…_

"Well, Evan? Where are your notes?" Ororo asked as she tracked down her nephew after dinner. The teen was in his room, listening to music and playing a game on his computer.

"Oh, hey Auntie O…one second." Evan turned back to his game and quickly paused it, before reaching down to the floor and picking up his backpack and pulling out his notebook. He flipped through it before he found the page he was looking for and held it out for her to look at.

Ororo took the offered book and looked down at his notes. There was a list of names and dates, along with some references to places that she recognized as Bayville landmarks. The one thing that they all seemed to have in common, however, was the last name. _Xavier._

"Evan, what is this?"

"Um, well, the Professor mentioned that his family's been in Bayville for a while, so I thought I might do my project on the contributions that his family made to the city. I'm still looking, and I was going to ask him about it the next time he checks in with us," Evan told her. "I just wanted to see what I could find out so that I could ask him specifically – and I thought that I might ask him what he knows about whatever time frame I decide to focus on. It's his family, so he might know stuff that the newspapers don't."

Ororo frowned for a moment, but she couldn't fault her nephew for his choice of topic – and he did have a unique resource in the form of the Professor, if Charles gave Evan permission to discuss his family's history in a school paper. "All right, just as long as you ask Professor Xavier's permission _before_ you start writing the paper – and make sure that either I or he gets a chance to look at it before you turn it in."

"No problem, Aunt Ororo. I was going to anyway," Evan assured her.

"And if he doesn't give permission, you need to come up with an alternate topic so that you have time to research it and write the paper. I don't want to see another D- on a paper for this class," she told him sternly.

"Sure thing."

Ororo smiled and nodded at him. "All right, Evan." She left his room, closing the door behind herself.

Evan waited until the sound of her footsteps faded before he grabbed his backpack and pulled out a stack of papers. While he had found some very interesting things about the Professor's family from previous generations, more than enough to write a paper, it was the more modern information that he was concerned with now.

The list of articles that Mrs. Preston had given him had been order from most recent to oldest, and as he was going through them, several had caught his eye. During the tutorial that she'd given him on using the microfilm reader, she'd shown him how to print out articles. Other than simply printing the ones whose headlines had caught his attention, he hadn't taken the time to read them…but now, it was time to get some _real_ research done – and find out what was going on with Professor Xavier's mysterious "daughter".

* * *

_Elsewhere…_

"Ugh…"

Charles groaned softly as sensations started to return to him. Pain was the first thing that he registered – a throbbing sensation ringing through his head. The pulses were disorienting and made it difficult for him to focus on anything else.

Darkness was the next thing that registered, through the pain, but the darkness quickly faded as he struggled to open his eyes. His lids were unresponsive and heavy, and the blackness and the throbbing pain in his head kept trying to drag him back down into the oblivion where he'd been before.

If there was one word, however, that he would have used to classify himself, it was _stubborn_. It was his determination – his stubbornness – that had kept him from giving up on the hope that he might have a family after his parents and stepfather died, that had kept him from surrendering to despair when he lost the use of his legs, that had allowed him to believe that his daughter might still be alive somewhere. It was the same trait that had inspired his dream of seeing mutants and humans working together in harmony.

Never in his life had Charles Xavier given in and taken the easy path. He wasn't about to start now.

With an inner strength, he shoved aside the throbbing sensation – pushed past it as if it wasn't even there. Then, he locked it deep away, erecting powerful mental shields that would keep it from intruding on his thoughts and actions.

What he was attempting was not an easy feat, and despite the power of his shields, they wouldn't last forever. At some point, he would have to release them – give in to the pain before the pressure of holding it back overwhelmed him.

But for the time being, he would be able to function, to think clearly. And right now that was the most important thing.

With the pounding pain locked away and no longer intruding on his mind, he dragged his eyes open, fighting against the sudden weariness that came in the wake of the pain. With a monumental effort, his blue eyes flickered open, blinked closed and then opened again.

"Huh. So our guest is finally awake."

_Who? A Boston accent…in California?_ Charles' mind easily identified the distinctive sound of the feminine voice before his eyes had even taken in his surroundings.

He blinked several more times before the world focused. He was lying on a cot in a room that was painted a rather harsh green color. Most of the room was filled with boxes and crates, which made him think that he might be in a storage room of some kind. There was a clear path between where he was lying and the door, but his wheelchair was nowhere in sight – and standing between him and the door was a young, dark-haired woman.

As soon as she realized that he was looking at her, she let out a low, throaty laugh and tapped on the door. It opened a fraction and she spoke softly to whoever was on the other side. The door closed again and the woman turned her attention back to him.

Charles blinked again, taking in the sight of the woman. For a split second he thought he was looking at Rogue – but after a moment he realized that he wasn't. But the woman's stance and attitude – she reminded him of Rogue in many ways. Hard, tough, defensive, and insular. Her choice of clothing only reinforced that image. Where Rogue chose clothing that shrouded her, keeping her skin from coming in contact with anyone else, she also chose garments that made her appear standoffish – it was all part of her ongoing effort to keep herself safe, to keep anyone from getting close.

This woman – no, girl, since she couldn't be more than eighteen and was probably younger – had done something similar. Instead of shrouding her to keep her safe, the way Rogue did, her choices made her seem dangerous and not someone to be bothered. She wore tight black leather pants, heavy boots, and a _very_ low-cut top that exposed a great deal of cleavage and skirted on the edge of decency. Her makeup was thick, heavy, and dark and her brown hair had a wild and untamed look to it. But her eyes…

Charles gazed into this child-woman's eyes and saw only pain, torment, and a hardness that no living soul should contain. It was unmistakably alien – for all the things that he had suffered in his life, it was obvious that this girl had suffered far, far worse.

At the same time, however, there was something…familiar. He had seen that look before…but where?

He tried to speak, but his voice wouldn't work. His throat was dry. He swallowed several times and finally managed to speak. "W-who are you?" While he could have used his powers, something inside him, an urge to shield part of himself, wouldn't let him. His powers were awesome, but if this girl didn't know about them, he had an advantage that he couldn't afford to squander. "Where am I?"

The girl tipped her head to the side and pushed off from where she was leaning against the wall. "Faith." Her movements were fluid, graceful…but there was a raw sexuality to them that he'd never seen in someone so young before. Her voice was low and husky, thickening her Boston accent and adding to that overall sense of wild, untamed passion he sensed from her. "You're in City Hall, about to meet with the Mayor."

"Why was I brought here?" Charles demanded, but Faith didn't answer him. Instead she just gave him a careless look and turned back towards the door. She leaned back against the wall and reached into her pocket, removing a small, sharp knife and a piece of wood. Charles looked around the room, but didn't see his wheelchair anywhere. "Where is my chair?"

"I don't really know, and I don't really care," she said after a moment as she set the knife to the wood and started whittling it away. "I'm just here to watch you until the Mayor comes. Waste of my skills, really, but I do what I'm told."

Charles narrowed his eyes at the girl's nonchalance, before he pressed his hands onto the cot and slowly – somewhat painfully – levered himself up into a sitting position. He was paralyzed and couldn't walk, but the injury had been so severe and the damage to his nerves so extensive, that any type of jarring movement – such as sitting up or lying down – could cause a burst of intense pain up and down his spine.

Despite all the years of dealing with the sensation, he couldn't control the gasp of pain or the expression that crossed his face. Reflexively, his hands clenched around the metal frame of the cot hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

The girl – Faith – looked up from her whittling and caught sight of the expression on his face. For a moment, she looked concerned and started to take a step forward, but checked herself. A hard look crossed her face and she turned her attention back to her knife and wood.

After a moment, the white-hot agony faded and Charles was able to breathe again as he fought the last remnants of the pain back. Once he had control of himself again, he turned his attention back to his guard. There was something so familiar about her – but it wasn't just her superficial resemblance to Rogue's isolation.

But right now he needed to concentrate on getting out of here, and that meant alerting someone to his situation. Without his wheelchair, he would have to be rescued, since he was physically helpless. He could drag himself along the floor, but that would be slow and he would have no chance to get away. He didn't know what the Mayor wanted with him, but if the man had given orders to bring him here unconscious, it couldn't be anything good.

The most obvious thing he could do was to call out to his daughter – but he had no idea where she was or what she was doing. If her shields were up, she might not hear him call out to her, and while he could breach her shields with ease, doing so could damage her mind, especially if she fought him.

His other choice would be to try to astrally project himself out of this place, find his daughter and pass on the message that way. She was a telepath, and even with her shields up, he would be able to make himself heard in that form, without having to breach her shields.

Of course, the downside would be that while his astral projection was away, he would essentially be "out-of-body" and he wouldn't be able to control or stop anything from happening to him – and if something happened to his physical body, it could cause the link between his astral form and his body to become severed – which would then strand him forever between a physical reality and the Astral Plane – a fate worse than death.

Glancing again at the young woman who was guarding him, he decided to risk it. Sunnydale was a small town – hopefully it wouldn't take him long to locate Elizabeth and tell her where he was and he would be back before the Mayor came for him.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, the better to focus on what he was trying to do. This was an incredibly advanced – and incredibly dangerous – trick, which was why he tried not to do it unless he absolutely had to. He willed himself into astral form and "stood", passing right through his body, which remained sitting absolutely still on the cot.

Now for the hardest part. With the power of his mind alone, he willed himself to rise through the air towards the ceiling, a narrow silver cord trailing behind him, linking himself back to his body. As long as nothing happened to his physical body to sever that tie, he would be able to find his way back. By going up, he'd be able to get above the building once he was outside and figure out where he was in relation to his daughter's house.

He shot towards the ceiling – another second or two and he'd be out of the building and then he could start looking for Elizabeth…

Something stopped him cold. His astral form couldn't rise through the roof of City Hall. There was a barrier of some sort between himself and the roof, holding his astral form inside. He strained harder, trying to push through, but to no avail. Finally, he gave up and descended back towards his body, following the silver cord and merging with his physical self.

He blinked and shifted slightly, letting out a small sigh as his awareness shifted back to gathering information through his "normal" senses.

_How could the Mayor know about my ability to astral project? And where did he come up with a barrier strong enough to hold me?_ Charles wondered. It was a valid question, because with most of the world still unaware of the existence of mutants, there was no reason for anyone to suspect that Charles Xavier was one of the most powerful telepaths on Earth.

Footsteps from out in the hallway caught his attention and he looked towards the door as his guard put away her knife and the wood – which she had whittled until it was a sharp, deadly looking spike of wood.

The door opened and a man entered the room. He was around six feet tall, with thinning, light brown hair that was slicked back from his forehead, and dark brown eyes. He had a cheerful smile on his face, but Charles could sense that there was something dark – evil – about this man, no matter what façade he wore. It was obvious to him without even needing to extend his powers to probe the man.

"Ah, Doctor Charles Xavier," the man said jovially. "I must say it is quite an honor to meet you at last."

* * *

_Sunnydale streets…_

Buffy hurried along the street, a stake in her hand and her eyes darting all around, looking for some sign of her father. She'd gone to the Ramada almost immediately after leaving the school, only to learn that her father had checked out almost a half hour before she arrived.

There was only one direct route between her house and the hotel without cutting through one of Sunnydale's cemeteries, and since her father didn't know about that shortcut, there was no reason for him to take it. He had to be on one of the streets between her house and the hotel – unless one of Sunnydale's supernatural residents had grabbed him. And with each passing minute, that was looking more and more likely.

If that was the case, and he was hurt or killed…there wouldn't be a pit in hell deep enough to bury the vampire or demon that dared to attack him when she had just found him.

"Buffy!"

Buffy stopped at the sound of her name. She twisted her head and spotted Xander, Willow, and Oz hurrying up to her from a side street. She was pleased to see that all three of them were carrying their stakes and crosses.

"What are you guys doing here?" she asked as they drew close.

"Giles called us after you left and told us what was going on with Doctor Xavier," Willow said. "He told us that you had proof that he was your father and all, and that something had happened to him."

"What did happen?" Xander wondered.

"I don't know for sure, Xan. I have to find him first. All I know is that he checked out of his hotel, and…" Buffy trailed off. After a moment, she continued. "I'm hoping that he made it home by now, but since he doesn't know how dangerous Sunnydale is at night, he won't know how to protect himself."

"We'll help you find him, Buffy," Willow said.

"Thanks, Wills," Buffy said with a small smile. "If he's on his way home, he's got to be between here and my house. If he didn't make it, we need to check other streets just in case he took a wrong turn."

"But you don't think he did?" Oz asked as they started walking again.

"No. He's smart, Oz," Buffy said. "I don't think he would take a wrong turn – not that he couldn't, but he doesn't know Sunnydale that well yet, so I think he would be concentrating on exactly where he's going so he doesn't get lost."

They were approaching the next street when Oz suddenly stopped. "Do you guys hear that?"

They all stopped and listened. "What is it?" Willow whispered to her boyfriend.

Oz frowned. "It sounds like…a cell phone. It's coming from over there," he pointed to the street to their left – the direction that the professor would have had to turn to get back to Buffy's house.

"Dad has a cell phone," Buffy said. "I've seen him use it." Now that Oz had pointed it out, she could hear it too – her attention had been on looking for supernatural foes, and she'd been listening for signs of a struggle, or someone calling for help, not a more mundane sound like a cell phone.

They turned down the street and headed in the direction that Oz indicated. The werewolf's senses were always heightened, even when he wasn't in wolf form, but in the weeks preceding the full moon, they grew stronger each day until the moon reached it's fullest point, before they started to ebb back to levels that would put them only slightly above that of a normal human.

Halfway down the block, they could all hear it clearly. Buffy picked up her pace and traced the sound to a flowerbed in front of a house that had a For Sale sign in the front yard. Stooping down, she fished the compact device out of the dirt. Flipping it open, she checked the display.

_Calling…Dr. Michael Fitzgerald…_

After a moment, she pressed the Send button and held it up to her ear. "Hello?"

"_Yes, may I speak to Charles Xavier, please?"_

"He's not here right now," Buffy said awkwardly.

There was silence for a moment before the gentleman spoke. "_Could you tell him that Dr. Fitzgerald was returning his call from earlier? I'll be available until about ten o'clock tonight if he'd like to talk to me."_

"I'll let him know," Buffy replied.

"_Thank you."_ Dr. Fitzgerald hung up abruptly.

Buffy turned to look at her friends. "Well, this is definitely my dad's phone." After a moment, she blinked. "Where'd Oz go?"

"Around the side of the house," Willow said. "He thought he smelled something."

"Guys? Over here!" Oz called. "Found something!"

They followed the sound of Oz's voice to the back yard, where, next to a dying yucca plant, was a wheelchair lying on it's side. "Didn't Giles say Doctor Xavier was confined to a wheelchair?" Oz asked.

Buffy froze at the sight of it before she knelt down and started looking it over for damage or some type of identifying mark that would tell her for sure whether or not it was her father's.

"Um, yeah he did," Willow said. "And the articles I found when I was researching him for Angel confirmed it. He's paralyzed from the waist down due to some kind of accident."

Buffy lifted the chair upright and as she did her fingers brushed against something rough, yet even. Bending down to look, she realized that tiny letters had been etched into the back of the seat.

_Property of Charles Xavier_.

"It's my dad's," she confirmed. "Someone's taken him…and I'm going to find out who did it and make them pay. I did not just find out the truth only to lose him now because I didn't want to tell him about being the Slayer. If they hurt him…there's nowhere they can go where I won't hunt them down."

* * *

_City Hall…_

Charles schooled his face into a neutral expression. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage."

"Oh, of course, how rude of me," the man said. "I'm Richard Wilkins, the Mayor of Sunnydale." He stepped forward and offered his hand to Charles, who ignored the gesture.

"Why was I brought here?" he asked instead. "I would have been perfectly happy to speak to you tomorrow, or even tonight, but your man didn't give me much of an option, and didn't even give me the chance to call my daughter and tell her I would be late."

Wilkins drew his hand back. "I am terribly sorry about that, Doctor. I did tell him to tender the invitation to you, but I did not say to bring you here by force. Rest assured, he has been…disciplined for his impulsiveness." The Mayor turned to Faith. "My dear, the plane will be arriving within the hour."

"On it Boss," Faith replied, pushing off from the wall. "You'll have it in two or less."

"And, Faith, please remember…the package is vitally important."

"Gotcha, boss-man," the young girl said with a smirk. "It's in good hands."

"I know it is," Wilkins said with a smile. "Go on."

Faith nodded and left the room, pulling the door closed behind her. Wilkins watched her go for a moment before he turned back to Charles. "Kids…aren't they wonderful? There's nothing better than looking at the face of a child and seeing the innocence of their souls in their expressions."

Charles had to fight back a lump in his throat at Wilkins' words. Because of what had happened to Elizabeth, that was a pleasure that he would never get to see. His daughter was a woman grown, and he knew from what little he had seen in her mind and in her eyes that she was not an innocent child any more.

It took him a moment to compose himself, before he cleared his throat. "Mr. Mayor, please, I would appreciate it if you would tell me why you had me brought here. I'm sure that my daughter is worried about me, since my cell phone seems to be missing."

"Yes, of course." The Mayor looked around before he took a seat on one of the wooden crates a few feet away from where Charles was seated on the cot. "I've been a long time fan of your work, Doctor. When I learned that you were in town, I just had to take the opportunity to meet you."

Charles frowned slightly. "Forgive my skepticism, but you don't seem to be the type of person who would be interested in advanced genetics and biophysics."

"You might be surprised. I've been following your research for some time, Doctor, as well as the work of your colleague Dr. MacTaggert. It's fascinating - what you've uncovered about the genetic potential of humans." The Mayor had an expression on his face that reminded Charles of a small child at Christmas. There was an earnestness on his face that seemed both sincere and false. "I'll admit, I don't understand everything about your research or your conclusions, but I still find it very interesting. I did, however, have some questions for you."

_What is going on?_ Charles wondered. Whatever the Mayor was getting at, it made no sense. "I'll do my best to answer them, although I must admit that I would prefer it if we could continue this conversation tomorrow, or another day. I'll be in Sunnydale for at least two weeks."

"Normally, I would be happy to oblige you, Doctor, but I'm afraid my schedule is quite booked for the next month or so. This is an important year for me, and between the normal responsibilities I have to Sunnydale and my…campaign, I don't have a lot of free time."

"How can I help you then?" Charles asked, determined to get this over with so he could find his daughter.

"In your research, have you come across any indication for…how shall I put this…genetic potential to channel incredible power or forces that most people couldn't imagine?"

_Is he talking about mutations?_ Charles thought to himself. "As with all creatures, mankind's genetic code is constantly evolving in…unpredictable ways. Our environments, and our need to adapt to them creates changes in our DNA that current science cannot always anticipate."

"Ah, you're talking about tolerances for heat and cold and such, yes?"

"As a very basic example, yes," Charles agreed. "But there are other environmental changes as well – the food we eat, the air we breathe, how well we tolerate the presence of chemicals and toxins. It's a complex science, and we've only begun to discover the full potential of human adaptation and evolution."

"Of course, of course. But I was thinking more in terms of forces that most humans think of as myth or fantasy. Magic, or sorcery perhaps."

Charles blinked. "I'm sorry? Magic?"

"Yes. Witchcraft is the most obvious example of what I'm looking for."

Charles shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't help you there, Mr. Wilkins. Perhaps I'm too much of a scientist, but I simply don't believe in 'magic'."

Wilkins frowned deeply. "Well, that's a shame." He rose to his feet and headed for the door. "I'm afraid, Doctor, that you'll need to start believing in it, because I need your skills for a special project of mine." He opened the door. "I believe that you may be the only one who can help me complete it, and until you do, I simply cannot let you leave here."

He had to take the chance. Dropping his shields, he leveled a powerful psychic bolt at the Mayor, which impacted him directly, and _should_ have dropped him in his tracks.

Instead the Mayor just turned around and now the look on his face was one of deep disappointment. "Well, that was quite rude of you, Doctor. It seems, perhaps, that you know more about magic than you claim. I suggest that you rethink your position very quickly, because I will need an answer from you when I come back."

He stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him with a firm _click_, just before the lock was thrown, leaving Charles alone in the small storage room.

**Don't forget to read and review!**


	33. Chapter 32: Pressured Intentions

___Author's Note: *pants for air and massages tired fingers* Wow...ok, here's another chapter...and this one is almost twice as long as most of the other chapters. I hope you enjoy and remember to review! Oh, and speaking of reviews...I'd like to thank **Morgomir** for being the 300th reviewer on this site! You guys really rock and we're almost up to 700 reviews between the two sites I post to!_  


_**Chapter Thirty-Two: Pressured Intentions**_

"_**As long as one keeps searching, the answers come."**_

_**-Joan Baez**_

_Sunnydale High library…_

"Mr. Giles, this is completely unacceptable! I've allowed you to work with me - _against_ the Council's orders, I might add - but now I find that you have been conspiring with the Slayer to keep vital information from me and the Council," Wesley ranted as he paced up and down the main level of the library.

Giles stood in the doorway of his office nonchalantly, holding a mug of coffee. "Wesley, to be completely honest, I don't care." He took a sip of his coffee. "Buffy came to me in confidence and as her friend I offered advice. I don't work for the Council anymore, and I am not obligated to tell them anything."

"I will be informing the Council of your interference in this matter," Wesley said pompously.

"Try it, Wes, and I'll kick your ass from here to England," Buffy said, shoving open the library doors. Willow, Oz, and Xander were right behind her, and Willow was pushing the Professor's wheelchair. "What is between Doctor Xavier and I is personal and it will not affect my Slaying, so the Council doesn't need to know."

"Everything that concerns you is a matter for the Council, Buffy," Wesley began.

Buffy exploded. She stalked right up to her Watcher and grabbed him by the collar of his jacket, lifting him off his feet with ease and holding him suspended. "Wesley, right now I don't give a damn about the Council. My father is missing, and it looks like he's been taken by something. Either help me find him, or I swear I'll throw you on a plane back to England myself, and screw what the Council says."

"What – what do you propose?" Wesley stammered, losing all of his arrogance in the face of her fury.

She held him there for another moment before she set him, none-too-gently, back on his feet. "I propose we find him and get him back. I didn't just meet him only to lose him to a vamp now."

"Do we have any idea who took him?" Giles asked.

"It would have to have been quick," Buffy said. "They grabbed him off a residential street without him being able to call for help, and they took his cell phone, which means he either tried to call for help, or they knew he had it somehow. Vamps don't usually search their victims before they take them."

"Could it have something to do with the Mayor and the Ascension?" Xander wondered.

Giles looked thoughtful as he considered the possibility. "The Mayor _would_ have the resources to abduct Doctor Xavier, but for what purpose?" He looked around at them. "Doctor Xavier is a former college professor and a headmaster at his private school. Unless the Mayor knows that he's Buffy's father – and how he could, I can't imagine since they two of them just found out for sure yesterday – it makes no sense."

"Should we start looking for him?" Willow asked. "We know most of the hideouts in Sunnydale, and I could try a locator spell."

"Locator spells can be somewhat unreliable, Willow," Giles cautioned. "Especially on a Hellmouth. The amount of magical energy in the air makes them extremely fiddly and unwieldy."

"It might narrow down a search area though," Willow pressed. "All I need is a personal item that belongs to him and a few herbs."

"Would his wheelchair count as a personal item?" Buffy asked. "Or his cell phone?"

"Maybe," Willow said. "Can I - ?"

Buffy handed her the cell phone they'd found and Willow closed her eyes and concentrated, trying to sense the Professor's aura on the device. Meanwhile, Buffy turned to Giles. "Giles, would you call Angel and tell him what happened? He knows Dad, and he'll help us look, I'm sure of it."

Giles nodded and headed for the phone as Willow opened her eyes.

"Wills?"

"There's a strong aura on the phone that I'm assuming is his," Willow said. "Since I've never met him or probed him for his aura, I'm going to take a chance and say that yes, the aura is strong enough to use for the spell. All I can do is try and see if the spell works."

"Do it," Buffy said. "Xander, can you help her get the supplies?"

"Sure, Buff."

"Oz, do we still have the radios you guys were using last summer?" Buffy asked, turning to Willow's boyfriend.

The werewolf nodded. "Yep. Giles' office."

Buffy nodded, a plan forming in her mind. "Good. You and Wesley find flashlights and make sure the radios are working. If Will can narrow down a search area, we'll split up into two search groups." She paused for a moment. "Grab maps too."

Oz tapped Wesley on the shoulder and jerked his head towards' Giles office. The younger Watcher looked like he wanted to protest, but after a moment shook his head and followed Oz.

While everyone went about their tasks, Buffy headed for the book cage to procure weapons. By the time Willow finished her spell, she wanted them to be ready to move. She wasn't going to leave her father in the hands of vamps or demons for very long. She just hoped that her gut feeling – that he was still alive and well – was correct.

_Hang on, Dad,_ she thought. _We're coming._

* * *

_City Hall…_

Charles looked around the storage room again. Ever since the Mayor had left him locked in here almost an hour ago, he had been looking for anything that could help him escape. With his telepathic powers mysteriously checked, he was somewhat at a loss, and he'd realized that over the years since he'd become paralyzed, he'd come to rely on his powers. His physical limitations were more frustrating than ever, because if he'd been able to walk, he would have been more equipped to escape from this situation.

The boxes and crates that were stacked all around him drew his attention again, and he wondered if they could be of any use. Bracing himself for the pain, he shifted sideways on the cot. It took all his control and focus to ignore the white-hot agony that the jarring movements caused, but he managed to slide far enough over so that he could reach the boxes that were stacked closest to the cot.

He had to take a moment to just breathe through the pain that his actions had caused. This was yet another reason why he tried to do as much as he was physically capable of doing without asking for help. He didn't like having to admit to someone who was trying to help him that their aid was causing him such severe pain. It always made his helper feel bad and he didn't like causing anyone distress. On his own, he knew exactly how much he could move and be able to tolerate the pain before he was forced to show it.

After a moment, the majority of the pain faded enough that he was able to carefully lean forward and pull the closest box towards him. The motion caused another lance of pain, but he ignored it. There was nothing that could stop the pain, and he wasn't causing himself any more damage – it was just the result of the damaged nerves in his spine that had never healed properly. He didn't expect that the boxes would be of any use – if he really was in City Hall, they were most likely to be filled with old papers or office supplies, possibly holiday decorations – but he still had to try. He wasn't the type to simply sit back and wait to see what the Mayor had in mind.

With an effort, he pulled the first box close enough that he could reach the flaps, which were tucked down, but not sealed. Disappointingly, but not unexpectedly, the box was filled with empty manila and hanging file folders. Charles sighed and pushed the box aside and reached for the next.

As he worked, he found his thoughts dwelling on the Mayor's reaction to his telepathic attack. The bolt had been powerful enough that it should have dropped Wilkins where he stood, but the man hadn't even flinched. And then there was the man who had attacked him on the street. His reaction had been the same. How could there be two people with the same apparent immunity to his powers in the same small area?

Although human mutation on this scale was growing, the percentage of the population with the mutant X gene was still small – probably one percent or less of the total world's population. Of course, Charles didn't expect the numbers to remain that small for long. That made the fact that there were two people in the same town with the same powers all the more curious.

_No…wait…_he thought as something occurred to him. _There were three people that I've met since coming to Sunnydale._ He'd almost forgotten about Angel in the wake of finding proof of his and Elizabeth's connection. To find a total of three people in one town with immunity to telepathy – who had _not_ been flagged by Cerebro – and his daughter, a (potentially) powerful telepath? The odds of that happening were astronomical, and it left him with more questions than answers.

Then, there was also the Mayor's demand to consider. The idea that "magic" could be tracked through human genetics – that there even was a gene for it – was more than a little odd. The very idea was the stuff of fantasy, despite the number of people in the world who believed in it. It was illogical and impossible. Even if it was true – and Charles couldn't bring himself to believe it – how did the Mayor expect him to find proof? Theories like that took _years_ to prove, access to a large base of volunteers and test subjects, sophisticated equipment in an up-to-date, fully equipped lab, and vast amounts of money. It wasn't something that could be done on a whim, and certainly not within a month as the Mayor had implied.

His friend Moira had been studying genetics right along with him for years, and she used a fully-equipped lab on Muir Island in Scotland, but she'd worked for years to secure enough money from grants and prizes that she'd won before she'd been able to relocate and set up the facility. He himself helped to contribute to the finances she needed whenever they were working together on a project. His own lab beneath the mansion was full of state-of-the-art equipment that cost a small fortune, and even he still applied for grants and funding despite his family's fortune.

He shoved the last box that was within his reach aside when it – like the others – held nothing but surplus office supplies. He didn't like feeling helpless, and he could only hope that Elizabeth or Joyce had realized that something was wrong by now. According to his watch – which he had forgotten to change over to California time – it was eleven o'clock in New York, which made it eight o'clock in Sunnydale. He hoped that Elizabeth had realized that he hadn't come and that she'd called the police.

_Elizabeth…_she had tried to warn him about the dangers, but he hadn't listened to her warnings enough to take them seriously. It was quite obvious that she hadn't been exaggerating.

* * *

_Sunnydale High Library…_

"_Per vox of orbis terrarum, ego to order…"_

Buffy held her breath as Willow scattered a handful of blessed sand over the map of Sunnydale while she chanted her spell in Latin. Her father's phone was glowing slightly as Willow tapped into the aura that he'd left on it.

"…_ostendo sum suus locus_!" Willow finished, making a sharp motion with her hands.

After a moment, the sand scattered on the map began to glow softly, the same rich yet pale blue as the cell phone beside it. After a moment, the glow receded to three smaller areas on the map and Willow sagged slightly.

"That's the best I can do," she said, disappointment coloring her tone. "According to the spell, he's in one of these three areas."

One area was just south of the airport, one was downtown, and the third was on the western edge of town, near the beach. Buffy studied the layout of the areas on the map. "I was hoping for two areas, or one larger one that we could divide up, but this will have to do," she said after a moment. "All right…Oz and Willow, you guys take the beach area. Use your radios if you find him, and the rest of us will come running. Don't fight unless you have to."

Oz and Willow nodded and Buffy turned to the others. "Xander, you and Wesley are going with Angel. I want you to cover the area near the airport." She looked closely at her friend and the younger Watcher. "Trust Angel if you guys find Dad. Call for help, but if you have to fight, let him protect you while you guys get to my dad."

"Buffy –" Wesley began, an arrogant tone creeping into his voice.

"Stuff it, Wes," Buffy snapped, not willing to deal with the pompous man. "Angel, if he gets annoying feel free to hit him."

The ensouled vampire smiled. "No problem Buffy."

"Giles, you're with me. We're going to take the downtown area," Buffy finished the assignments. When Giles nodded, Buffy looked around at her friends. "Guys…thank you for helping. We have to find him."

"We will, Buffy," Xander replied.

"Everyone grab your gear, and let's go," Buffy ordered.

* * *

"Poor Buffy. The Powers must really hate her," Willow said as they walked. Oz had the Professor's scent from his wheelchair and they were trying to track him using his powerful werewolf senses.

"How so?"

"Well, first she gets into Northwestern and has a chance to get away from Sunnydale, but then Faith goes bad. The she finds her father, but learns she was kidnapped as a baby and the he gets abducted the very next day, plus she still has the Mayor and the Ascension to deal with, and since we don't know what it is…"

Oz silenced her babbling by grabbing her and planting a deep kiss on her lips.

When they broke for air, Oz pushed a strand of Willow's bright hair away from her face. "Buffy's tough, Will. She'll get through this."

"Mmm…yeah," Willow murmured. "You're right."

"Come on," Oz took her hand and started walking again.

* * *

"Giles, there aren't any prophecies or upcoming apocalypses that might involve my dad, are there?"

"Not that I'm aware of, Buffy. Not that we particularly need another apocalypse to deal with on top of the Ascension," Giles replied.

"I know, but if he's not part of a prophecy that means that he was just grabbed to be food."

Giles reached out and squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "We'll find him, Buffy. Doctor Xavier might be paralyzed, but he is highly intelligent and he'll do everything he can to escape or stay alive until we find him."

They walked in silence for another few moments before Buffy spoke. "I'm going to have to tell him everything after this," she said.

"If you really want my advice, Buffy, I think you should tell him. If he knows your destiny, he might be able to see you as the strong young woman you are, rather than as his daughter whom he must protect."

"I really didn't want to though. After the way mom reacted…I don't want him to see me as a freak, or crazy."

"Buffy, what happened with your mother – Joyce, I mean – there's no reason to think your father will react the same way. If he has an entire school for mutants, he must have seen a lot of odd things."

"Maybe…but telepathy and telekinesis are sore of minor compared to vampires, demons, and semi-annual apocalypses," Buffy pointed out. "And once he knows, he'll worry. He thought I was dead once. Can I – should I – put him through worrying about me every night? I have to fight, and fight hard, Giles. And the Slayer is always destined to die young."

Giles sighed. "Buffy, a good parent will always worry about his children, no matter if they're mutant, Slayer, or normal. If you father worries, it's because he loves you and wants you to be safe." He fell silent for a moment. "And there are cases of Slayers that have lived longer than a few years, Buffy. Some of the first Slayers – before the Council got involved – lived longer than one or two years. You're the Slayer, yes, but you haven't given up yet, Buffy. Don't assume the worst."

* * *

"De – um, I mean, Angel, you got anything?" Xander asked, making an effort to be polite despite his mistrust of the vampire. Right now, while Buffy's dad was missing, wasn't the time to start something. And there was also the fact that he had to admit that since Angel had come back, he'd been a lot of help, and he hadn't made any move to hurt them – well, other than when he'd punched Xander in the face during the playacting with Faith. Without him, they might not have been able to expose Faith's betrayal until it was too late.

But he still didn't trust Angel. He was a vampire, plain and simple. Giles himself had said it best that first night three years ago. _"When you look at him, you're not looking at your friend…you're looking at the thing that killed him."_ Angel could hide behind his "soul" and pretend to be a good guy all he wanted, but at the end of the day, he was a killer.

Angel shook his head. "Not yet. Let's head closer to the airport. There are a lot of places out there that demons like to use for their lairs. Buffy and I made a sweep out there two weeks ago. Plenty of time for –" he paused and sniffed the air.

Xander and Wesley kept walking until they realized they'd left the vampire standing behind them several paces. Xander paused and looked back. "Angel?" He took a few steps closer. "What is it?"

"Faith," Angel said. "She's close."

Wesley looked around and slunk a few steps closer to Xander. "How close?" he whispered.

"That way…six blocks," Angel said, pointing north. "The wind's carrying her scent…and there's at least one vampire with her." He turned upwind and started forward. "Come on."

"Um, Angel, we're supposed to be looking for Buffy's dad – and do you really want to be that close to Faith? After all, she _is_ a Slayer…and you did play that trick on her…" Xander reminded him.

Angel rolled his eyes. "Trust me, Xander. I don't care if Faith is working for the Mayor and he's got vampires working for him. Faith's a Slayer…she'd never voluntarily work with one without good reason. Her instincts would tell her to slay it." He took a few more steps in the direction he'd indicated. "I have a feeling this could be important."

Xander exchanged a look with Wesley before they both shrugged and followed Angel.

* * *

"_Buffy, do you read us?"_

Buffy pulled the radio out of her pocket, grateful that her friends had bought radios that were powerful enough to work at long-range. "Yeah, Wills. Go ahead."

"_We finished searching our area. We've got nothing. Oz couldn't pick up your dad's scent anywhere."_

"Gotcha. Head over to meet up with me and Giles. We're about ten blocks from Restful Peace, heading that way."

"_We'll find you. On our way."_

Buffy slipped the radio back into her pocket. "We're running out of places to look too, Giles."

"Maybe Angel and Xander had more luck," Giles offered. He reached out and pulled his Slayer into a hug. "We'll find him, Buffy."

"I hope y –"

"_Buffy? Pick up!" _Xander's voice came over the radio.

Buffy fumbled for the radio again. The urgency in Xander's voice caused a wild spurt of hope to flash through her. "Yeah, Xan. I'm here. Did you find him?"

"_Faith's leaving the airport with a big, ugly box. It looks mystical. Angel saw a set of handcuffs attached to one of the handles, but there was no hand in the cuffs, and he said he smelled blood coming from her direction. She's in a black limo with city government plates, and it looks like they're heading for City Hall."_

Buffy shot a confused look at Giles. "Okay, Xander. We'll try to intercept at City Hall. What about my dad?"

_"We've got one more area to search. I'll check in when we're done."_

"Okay," Buffy repeated. "Wills, Oz, did you guys hear?"

"_Yeah, Buffy. We'll meet you at City Hall," _Willow replied after a moment.

* * *

_City Hall…_

A _click_ roused Charles from his meditations. He'd been trying to gather as much of his telepathic power as he could so that he could try to contact his daughter again. He'd dropped the shields that had been holding back the pain from the blow to his head, and had been trying to deal with the pain and focus on strengthening his powers for another try.

He blinked several times at the light that entered the room from the hallway. It wasn't bright, but between the throbbing headache – which was fortunately beginning to ebb – it took him a moment to make out the Mayor's features.

"Now, Doctor Xavier," the Mayor said cheerfully, "Oh, you don't mind if I call you Charles, do you?"

"Yes, I do," Charles said firmly.

"Ah, all right then," Wilkins continued, unfazed. "Have you given any thought to my question?"

Charles set a firm, neutral expression on his face and looked at the Mayor squarely. "I have. Even _if_ I believed in magic – which I do not – there is no way I could help you without a fully-equipped, state-of-the-art lab, a great deal of time and money, and a lot more information on the parameters of the project. What you're asking for could take years, if not decades of research – and not only do I not have the inclination to help you, I don't have the time. My priorities right now are with my daughter and my students in New York."

Wilkins just watched him for a moment, without moving. After a moment, he shrugged. "Well, I guess that's that, then. It's quite a shame, Doctor. You see, I really need that information, since it is very important to one of my supporters. He was convinced that if anyone could find it, it would be you, since you're one of the leading genetic scientists in the country." He paused for a moment. "I'll have to let him know, and after that I'll have to get in touch with your colleague Doctor MacTaggert."

Charles blinked, startled at his response. "What does M – Doctor MacTaggert have to do with anything?"

"Well, if you can't help me – or rather, _won't_ help me, I have to get the information from somewhere," the Mayor said with a half-hearted shrug.

"Hey, boss, here's your box," Faith appeared in the doorway behind Wilkins, a large metal box in her arms. The box had a hinged lid, handles on either side for carrying it, and was engraved and embossed with dozens of intricate symbols.

"Ah, Faith! Excellent. Let's take this to my office, shall we?" Wilkins looked at her before he looked back at Charles. "Are you sure you won't reconsider my offer, Doctor? Granted, Doctor MacTaggert was second on my supporter's list of people to try, and you should consider that a compliment. But I'm sure that she's likely to be as stubborn as you are – and that wouldn't be good for her health."

"Wilkins, leave Moira out of this!" Charles cried. He didn't need his friend getting mixed up in the Mayor's insanity. He had no doubt that if Wilkins contacted her about this project and threatened her with Charles' life, even though the two of them were only professional colleagues these days, Moira wouldn't hesitate to get involved. She still cared deeply about him, and the only reason there was distance between them was Charles' reluctance to talk about what had happened with Lizzie and Elizabeth.

"I'm afraid I don't have a choice, Doctor, unless you're willing to reconsider." The Mayor looked at him for a moment. "Why don't I give you a little more time to think it over, and we'll discuss it when I come back?" He started to close the door.

Charles swallowed. He didn't have a choice. He had to keep Moira out of this. "Fine, Wilkins. I'll help you, but leave Moira out of it! I want your word!"

Wilkins pushed open the door again. "I knew you'd see it my way," the Mayor replied pleasantly.

"Your word, Wilkins! I want your promise that you'll leave Doctor MacTaggert out of your schemes!" Charles demanded.

"Oh, of course, of course. As long as you're willing to cooperate, Doctor MacTaggert will be left out of it," the Mayor said jovially. "Rest here tonight and tomorrow I'll see to it that you're brought to your lab so you can get started."

"What about my daughter? She'll be worried about me."

"I think we can arrange a phone call in the morning, seeing as how it's already almost ten o'clock," Wilkins' voice was good-natured.

"She was expecting me tonight for dinner," Charles told him. "She's probably frantic by now."

"In the morning I'll see to it that you're able to contact her," Wilkins promised. "Now, you get some rest Doctor. I need to go and take care of this matter with Faith."

With that, the Mayor pulled the door closed and locked it again, leaving Charles in the small storage room once more…but in a much worse situation than he'd been in before.

He had to try to reach his daughter again. No matter what it took…he had to let her know where he was. Closing his eyes, he shoved away the last remaining vestiges of his earlier headache and concentrated all his attention on reaching out to his daughter.

_**Elizabeth…Elizabeth, please, answer me!**_

Charles called out to his daughter over and over again, praying that she would hear him. Their bond was still a fledgling one, but even at its weakest, it should have been strong enough for him to reach her.

Once again, however, that annoying barrier prevented his thoughts from getting past the bounds of City Hall. It was amazingly frustrating to be stymied in such a way. Charles finally gave up on the attempt and opened his eyes. That was obviously not going to work.

He steepled his hands for a moment and tapped his chin as he thought about his options. Whatever he did, he couldn't simply wait here for morning and go off to help the Mayor like he'd promised. There had to be something that he could do!

_Wait…the Mayor said that he was going to his office to deal with that box the girl brought back…I wonder if that shield is just on this room, or if it's only to keep thoughts from escaping the building?_

With a new plan in mind, he refocused his attention and once again projected his consciousness into his astral form. Slipping quietly away, the silver cord tying him to his body, he passed through the wall of his prison and saw a guard standing right outside. So trying to crawl out of here wasn't an option. His invisible astral form moved down the hallway, looking for that mental sense that he associated with the girl, Faith. He had noted it when he first saw her and filed it away absently – a mixture of anger, and emotional pain. After a moment, he pinpointed it coming from the Mayor's office, if the nameplate that read "Mayor Richard Wilkins the Third" on the door was any indication.

He slipped his astral form through the door and into the office, where he loitered, watching as the Mayor took the box from Faith and set it on the desk, looking excited.

"Hey ho, there it is. You did a great job, Faith…and in fewer than two hours, just like you predicted," he said as he reached into his jacket. "What happened to the courier? I'm supposed to pay him." He withdrew a sealed envelope that Charles assumed held money.

Faith looked at the envelope before she took it from him and then handed it back. "Huh. I made him an offer he couldn't survive."

There was silence for a moment before the Mayor laughed.

_Couldn't survi – no…she didn't kill the man? _Charles thought, aghast. _She can't be more than eighteen…and she's killing?_

"You are one heck of a girl, you know that? I mean geez. The initiative – the skill!"

"Go on, go on," Faith said with a smirk before she sat in one of the chairs in front of the Mayor's desk and propped her boots up on the edge of the desk.

"I will. I'll tell you, if Buff- hey, hey, hey," the Mayor looked pointedly at her feet as he broke off what he was saying. He waited until Faith had moved them before he continued where he'd left off. "I'll tell you, if Buffy Summers walked in here and told me she wanted to switch to our side? I'd say 'no thanks, sister. I've got all the slayer one man could ever need'."

_Buffy Summers…Elizabeth? What does this have to do with my daughter? And what's a slayer?_ Charles wondered even as he moved his astral form so that he could see Faith better. The other girl now looked bitter and quiet.

"What?" the Mayor asked.

"Nothin."

"Oh, it's cause I used the 'B' word, huh?" the Mayor asked, a sympathetic look on his face. "Don't tell me you're still sore about that whole Angel-Buffy thing?"

"Nah, I'm over it," Faith stood and waved her hand dismissively. "She can have him."

"Better believe she can," the Mayor took a seat in his chair. "She _deserves_ that poor excuse for a creature of the night. You, on the other hand, can do better."

_Creature of the night?_ Charles was dizzy and confused with all of the seemingly random bits of information he was getting from this conversation. _What is going on in this town?_

Faith, out of curiosity, started to open the box, but then the Mayor jumped out of his seat and slammed his hands down on top of it, making her jump back into what Charles absently recognized as a defensive posture from one of the martial arts that he taught the students. "Don't do that."

"Sorry, boss," Faith said, relaxing after a moment. When the Mayor sat back down, she moved back to her chair. "So what's with baldy in the other room?"

"Ah, he's part of a special project that I promised a friend I would help him with," the Mayor said. "The good doctor would never help my friend without some…ah, incentive, so my friend came to me and asked me to see if I could do something about that."

"Not quite sure what you want him to do, though," Faith reached into her pocket and pulled out her piece of wood and knife from earlier.

"Well, it's complicated," Wilkins picked up a file folder from his desk and started looking at the documents inside. "Occasionally, the ability or aptitude for witchery shows up in families – the power passing from mother to daughter, father to son, that sort of thing. It passed from my father to me, after all. That implies that there's something in our DNA that makes certain people show a higher aptitude for the craft – plus, it has to start somewhere. My friend wants the good doctor to try and track whatever it is that allows the ability to be passed. If Doctor Xavier can identify it, my friend can use that information in his own future research."

"Why baldy though?" Faith asked.

"He's a top-level geneticist – one of the best and most respected in the country," Wilkins replied as he picked up a pen and made some notes on the paper he was looking at. "If anyone can find it in a relatively short period of time, he can."

_And we're back to magic again, _Charles thought, shaking his head. He was at the height of information overload – not to mention the emotional punch in the gut he'd received when he heard that his daughter might be involved in all of this somehow. It was too much to digest for one night.

Turning, he followed the silver cord back to his body and merged his consciousness with his mind again. Opening his eyes, he stared at the wall. What was he going to do?

Resigning himself to the fact that there was nothing he _could_ do tonight, he started to lower himself to lie down on the cot. With a guard outside, the door locked, and his chair missing, all he could do was try to get some sleep and wait until morning. Maybe then he'd get the opportunity to get out of this.

* * *

_Outside City Hall…earlier…_

"Do you recognize it, Giles?" Buffy hissed as they watched Faith enter the building with the box that Xander had described in her arms.

"I'm afraid not, Buffy," Giles said apologetically. "I wonder what the Mayor could possibly want with it though…it must be important if he sent a Slayer to retrieve it."

"Or dangerous," Buffy added.

"I think we can take that as given, dear girl."

Buffy frowned for a moment, and then spotted the limo pulling away. "Wait here for the others. I'm going to get us some answers." Slipping back into the shadows, she moved through the darkness at a quick jog, paralleling the limo's path as it drove around the building towards the parking lot at the rear.

The limo pulled into its spot and idled there, headlights on. Buffy studied the situation. She could tell there was one vamp, in the car, but she needed to get around to where she could grab him before he had a chance to drive off.

Her foot clanked softly against something and she looked down to see an old soda can. Grinning as she got an idea, she scooped up the can, crouched down, and threw it so that it clattered to the asphalt a few feet behind the limo. Moving in a stalking crouch, she rounded the front of the car until she reached the driver's side window. Then she stood up and in one fluid motion, punched through the window and grabbed the vamp, yanking him half out of the car.

"So…what's in the box?"

Silently, she apologized to her father. Right now, anything that involved the Mayor had to be her priority. She could only hope that her feelings were right and that he was safe. Tomorrow they'd figure out a new plan of attack to get him back.

* * *

**_Latin Translations:_**  
_"Per vox of orbis terrarum, ego to order…_: By the powers of the earth I command...  
_...ostendo sum suus locus!_: ...reveal his location!

**Please leave me a happy review? Pretty please?**


	34. Chapter 33: Trying to Communicate

_******Author's Note: Hello, everyone! I'm back! I'm sorry about the two weeks between updates...in this case it was definitely a lack of time to write rather than a case of writer's block. But I finally managed to snag the time today that it took me to get this written and posted, so I hope you enjoy!**_

Oh, and the number that I used for Buffy's house is bogus...sort of, anyway. The area code and the exchange are real - they're for the city of Sunnyvale, California, but I just typed in random numbers for the last couple of digits, I tried to look it up and didn't get any definite results...so I don't think it's a real number, but I could be wrong.  


_**Chapter Thirty-Three: Trying to Communicate**_

"_**Communication is depositing a part of yourself in another person."**_

_**- Unknown author**_

_Sunnydale High Library…later…_

"I'm sorry, Buffy," Giles said as Willow, Oz, Xander, and Wesley left the library with Angel, heading for home. Oz was going to drive Willow home, and Angel had promised to see to it that Xander made it home safely. "I know how badly you wanted to find him."

Buffy looked from her former Watcher towards her father's wheelchair - which sat empty and off to the side – pushed out of the way so that it wouldn't be readily visible or an impediment to traffic. "I haven't given up yet, Giles, you were right about that. I'm sure he's still alive. I don't know _why_ I'm sure, but I am."

Giles only nodded, before he changed the topic. "And this Box of Gavrock – that's all you were able to find out?" Giles asked.

Buffy moved over to stand next to the table. "Yeah. We'll need to meet early tomorrow and decide what we're going to do about it."

"The rational choice, one would assume, would be to ensure that it doesn't stay in the Mayor's hands."

Buffy nodded and picked up her father's cell phone from the table where Willow had left it after performing her spell. "Ask Willow to help you get the plans for City Hall first thing."

"All right, Buffy." Giles reached out and squeezed her shoulder again. "Don't worry, dear girl. Everything will work out."

Buffy managed a weak smile. "Thanks, Giles. I don't know what I would do without you."

A fond smile crossed the ex-Watcher's face. "I'll always be here if you need me, Buffy."

* * *

_City Hall…Saturday morning…_

"Wakey, wakey!"

Charles woke with a start at the voice in his ear. He jerked his head to the side to see Faith leaning over him, much too close for his comfort. He didn't know how she had managed to startle him. Even when he was asleep, one small corner of his mind was usually alert and aware of what was going on around him. Part of his telepathic powers was a supreme awareness of the minds of the people around him, and he'd honed that ability to an incredibly high level, making it almost impossible for anyone to sneak up on him.

"'s about time you woke up. Boss wants you at the lab, working on that project you agreed to. I'm supposed to bring you there."

Charles slid back a little bit and eased himself into a sitting position, discretely putting some distance between himself and the young woman. He didn't know what it was about her that made him uneasy – perhaps it was her implication from the night before about having killed the courier she'd been sent to meet. He still wasn't sure if that was true or not, but he hoped, for her sake, that it wasn't. "I don't suppose that it would be possible for me to get a shower and clean clothing?" He prided himself on always being clean and well-dressed.

"Everything's waiting for you at the lab," Faith said.

Charles looked around the room, but saw no sign of his wheelchair. "My chair?"

A pout crossed Faith's face. "You don't want me to carry you?" She studied him thoughtfully before the pout changed to a slow, seductive look. "You're older than most of the men I see…but you're kinda hot, and there's something to be said for…_experience_."

Her implication filled him with horror and disgust. "I would prefer to be able to get around under my own power," he responded to the first part of the question, ignoring the second part with an effort. "If the Mayor is so insistent on getting this project done, then I would like to get started."

Faith let out a dramatic sigh, but rose to her feet and stepped over to the door. She opened it and pushed a wheelchair into the room, stopping it near the cot where Charles sat.

"Where is _my_ chair?" Charles asked. The one in front of him was a generic hospital-type chair, not his motorized one.

"Not here," Faith's tone changed from seductive to impatient.

Charles sighed and leaned forward to pull the chair a little closer, angling it into the position that would be easiest to get into. The cot was much lower to the ground than the seat of the chair, and that would only add to the difficulties. With an effort, he dragged himself into the chair, his arms straining to lift himself high enough when he usually just had to slide.

Just because he could no longer walk didn't mean that he didn't keep himself in shape. He still swam and exercised whenever and however he could, but his focus was on his arms and upper body rather than his legs. He had always felt that he was still very fit, given his limitations, but there was a considerable difference in the exercises that he performed and the motion that he was doing now.

Once he finally got himself seated, he had to bite back any signs of the pain the movement had caused him. It was difficult, and finally his trained mind took over and locked the pain away behind the same powerful shields that had allowed him to block out the pain from the night before.

He had barely gotten himself settled when Faith grabbed the handles on the back of the chair and pulled him out of the room so quickly that his feet dragged across the carpet, jarring him sharply enough that he knew that if he hadn't put those shields up, he wouldn't have been able to hide his reaction at the pain it would have caused.

Faith pushed his chair out of the room and down the hallway towards the elevator. He already knew he was on the upper floor of City Hall – he'd been able to see that much when he'd been trying to get past the barrier around the building. The elevator door was open and stopped and she pushed his chair in before she pressed the button for the basement.

Hope flared through him. Surely she was going to take him to another building where the lab that the Mayor wanted him to use would be set up. Even if the same odd barrier was over the lab, those minutes while he was in transit would be plenty of time for him to alert his daughter to his location, and then she could call the police.

The elevator door slid open and Faith pushed him out of the elevator into a dimly lit hallway. Charles looked around for a car of some kind – most government buildings had an underground garage where the employees could park. Instead, it was just a hallway lined with wooden doors – but at the far end was another door, this one made of heavy steel.

It was that door that Faith pushed him towards. When they reached it, she pulled it open and pushed him inside. The room inside wasn't large, but there was enough room to move around, at least. The floor was tiled, and the walls were painted a plain, sterile looking white. Another door – this one wooden, was tucked into the corner of the room.

A long, low cabinet ran along the walls, low enough that Charles would be able to reach anything inside as well as reaching the things that were sitting on the slate countertop. Another counter was positioned in the middle of the room, cutting most of the available space in half, and there were a few file folders and stacks of papers waiting there, along with a laptop and a printer.

The countertop was lined with various pieces of lab equipment that Charles recognized easily – a DNA synthesizer, a centrifuge, several microscopes, and a mass spectrometer. Without getting a closer look, he noted that they all appeared to be state-of-the-art. He also saw various types of test tubes, beakers, and boxes of glass slides – and one cabinet with glass doors had bottles of chemicals neatly lined up inside. There was also a clear-fronted refrigerator that held what appeared to be vials of blood – which he assumed were his "test subjects".

Another small counter near the door held a covered tray, and Charles thought he could smell eggs and bacon coming from underneath the cover.

"Home away from home," Faith said with a smirk, releasing his chair. "There's a shower and clothes waiting for you through that door. Boss'll be down here soon to explain the project to you, so I suggest that you get yourself cleaned up and ready to get to work before he gets here." With that, she turned and left the room, pushing the steel door closed behind her.

Charles spun the chair around and headed straight for the door, only to find that it could only be opened from the outside. He looked around for a phone next, but didn't seen one anywhere – and in fact there didn't even seem to be a phone line in the room.

_No phone line means no internet,_ Charles thought, disappointed. It seemed that if the Mayor was determined to keep him prisoner until he had finished this project, he had thought of everything to keep him from communicating with the world outside City Hall.

With no other option, Charles maneuvered the wheelchair over to the wooden door in the corner. Fortunately, it was a free-swinging door that required almost no effort to open, and he pushed it open and looked inside.

Just as Faith had promised, a small bathroom was inside. Surprisingly enough, the shower was even wheelchair-accessible, something that he wouldn't have expected to see – but this was not something that could have been put together overnight. Obviously, the Mayor had been planning this for a long time, as he had indicated the night before.

Next to the shower was a chair that held a pair of slacks, a light-weight shirt, undergarments, and a lab coat. None of the items belonged to him personally, but the sizes were all correct, which was more than a little disturbing. However, there was nothing else for it – he had made a promise, and until he found a way out of this situation, all he could do was hold to it – which meant getting cleaned up and ready to start as soon as the Mayor arrived.

* * *

_Sunnydale High School library…_

"I'm sick of waiting for Mayor McSleaze to make his move, while we sit on our hands counting down to Ascension Day. For once, let's take the fight to him."

"No, much too reckless," Wesley said immediately. "We're at too much of a disadvantage. We don't know enough –"

"The others are going to be here soon, and we are going to plan this out," Buffy said firmly. "I'm tired of arguing about this, Wesley. It's going to happen, and Giles agrees with me."

"No, I absolutely forbid it!" Wesley said sternly.

"How exactly do you plan to stop me, Wes?"

Wesley blustered for a moment. "I am your Watcher, young lady. You are required to listen to me!"

Buffy rolled her eyes and resisted the urge to punch the arrogant man. "Yeah, that'll really do it. At least when Giles tried to stop me, he asked nicely."

Before Wesley could respond they were both distracted by the sound of the doors opening. "All right, Buff! The cavalry's here!" Xander called as he and Oz entered the library, both of them holding bags of food. "Willow and Giles were right behind us."

"Good," Buffy said. As her friends joined them, she opened a book that was sitting next to her. Giles had located it the night before and left it sitting on the table with a note when she had arrived. "This is what Faith retrieved last night. It's called the Box of Gavrock. It houses some great demonic energy or something which His Honor needs to chow down when A-day rolls around."

The doors opened again and Giles and Willow entered. Giles was holding a roll of paper, which he spread out on the table as Buffy pushed the books aside.

"What's that?" Wesley asked.

"Maps and stuff," Giles said, directing a small smile at Buffy.

"Plans for City Hall," Willow corrected. "They were in the Water and Power mainframe."

Buffy looked over the blueprints for a moment. "The box is being kept under guard in a conference room on the top floor." She pointed at a spot on the plans. "There. Unfortunately, that's all I could get from my informant before his aggressive tendencies forced me to introduce him to Mister Pointy."

Wesley looked over the plans for a moment. "Well, now…here's what I think we should –"

Buffy ignored him and continued talking. "I figure we can enter through the skylight. I'll take Angel with me."

Giles nodded. "Agreed."

"There's a fire ladder on the east side of the building…here," Xander said, pointing it out. "That'll get you to the roof."

"Yes, fine, but we still need to consider –" Wesley tried.

"It won't be enough to simply gain possession of the box," Giles observed.

"Right, we have to destroy it," Willow agreed. "Not just physically. Ritually. With some down-and-dirty black magic." She looked quite pleased at the chance to work some major magic.

"Hang on; we don't know what such a ritual would require!" Wesley protested.

Giles showed him a page from a book he'd been looking at while Willow had been talking. "I think the _Breath of the Entropics_ is standard for this sort of thing. Fairly simple recipe." He handed the book to Xander before Wesley could get more than a glimpse. "Xander…"

"I know, I'm ingredient-getting guy," Xander took the book and started to head for the door.

"All right, stop!"

Everyone stopped and looked at Wesley who had moved away from the table and was now standing between them and the doors. "I demand everyone stop this instant! I am in charge here and I say this is all moving much too fast. We need time to fully analyze the situation and devise a proper and appropriate stratagem."

Buffy rolled her eyes and stepped up to her Watcher. "Wes, hop on the train, or get off the tracks. We have to get this done, before the Mayor has time to do anything else to stop us. Whatever is in that box is critical to the Ascension, so if we destroy it now, we stop the Ascension."

"The Mayor will most assuredly have supernatural safeguards protecting the box." Wesley paused and looked around when no one spoke. "Oh, we all forgot about that."

"Looks like a job for Wiccan Girl. What do you think, Will? Big time danger."

Willow laughed. "Hey, I eat danger for breakfast."

"But oddly enough, she panics in the face of breakfast foods," Xander observed to Wesley and Oz.

Buffy nodded. "Let's get to work. After we destroy this thing, we need to look for another way to find my dad."

The others – minus Wesley – all nodded in agreement and headed for the door again, leaving the younger Watcher standing mute in the center of the room.

* * *

_City Hall basement…later…_

The sound of the heavy steel door opening made Charles look up from the file folders he was looking through. Given that they'd been left for him, he assumed that they would have some information about the project he was expected to work on.

The information had been…bewildering, and not entirely believable. If it weren't for the way it had been so logically laid out, he would have dismissed the entire project out of hand. But the documentation was all neat and professional.

According to the file, there had been documented cases of certain people who were able to command powerful forces to do the will of the person who spoke the right combination of words and followed the right rituals. Supposedly, this ability passed down through families, much as the Mayor had mentioned the night before when Charles had been astrally eavesdropping.

"Ah, good morning, Doctor. I'm glad to see that you've already started looking over the work that I left for you. All of that information was complied by the man who asked for my help in solving this little conundrum. To be perfectly honest, I don't understand most of it, but he assured me that you would be able to understand the pertinent details."

"It's fiction, Wilkins," Charles countered. "A complete waste of time." He closed the folder and tossed it back onto the counter. "I don't know who told you about this, but he's chasing a pipe dream."

Wilkins shook his head. "There's no use pretending that you don't know what I'm talking about, Doctor. Your use of the power last night to try to attack me was proof enough that you are aware of the magical forces around us – and the fact that I was able to stop your attack effortlessly…well, you can deny it all you want, but that doesn't make it any less true."

He took a few steps closer. "I've seen to it that you should have all the equipment that you will need, but if there is something that I've neglected, please don't hesitate to let me know and I'll see what I can do to procure it. The intercom on the wall by the door will alert my secretary if you need to speak to me, and she has instructions to let me know immediately if you contact her." He started to step back towards the door. "Now, is there anything else that you need before I let you get started?"

"You promised I could call my daughter this morning," Charles reminded him.

"Ah, yes. Of course. I'll send Faith down with a phone for you in a few minutes," Wilkins said. "Anything else?"

Charles didn't comment, and Wilkins apparently took that as a 'no'. With a nod, he headed for the door again. "I'll have lunch brought to you later, and Faith will be back to get you this evening."

Wilkins pounded on the door and a moment later it was pulled open. "Have a good day, Doctor. I'm eager to see the results that you come up with after you've had some time to work on this, and I'm sure my friend will be too."

The door was pushed closed, sealing Charles inside the room again. Charles stared after him for a long moment. The man was completely delusional. Was he really expecting to hold Charles captive for as long as it took for him to complete the project? And what would happen once it _was_ done – that is, if it ever was?

Turning back to the papers on the counter, Charles sighed and picked the file folder again. At the very least, he had to try to figure out a way to approach the problem. If he didn't put in some effort towards it, he had no doubt that Wilkins would go after Moira next – and he couldn't allow that to happen.

Another look through the file brought him back to the same place that he'd been originally. What the Mayor was talking about – the idea that witchcraft was real – it was impossible. Magic _didn't_ exist, plain and simple.

_Of course, some people would say the same thing about human mutations – but those are real,_ a small, niggling voice prodded him.

_Mutations…_there was an idea that he hadn't considered. What if the "magic" that Wilkins was referring to was nothing more than a primitive form of the mutations that he and his students had? After all, not every mutant could have abilities on the level that he and his X-Men shared.

_If the mutation was something simple – a power that perhaps allowed one to affect the world around them through nothing more than focus and concentration, but over the years it became habit to have to use "ritual" and "magic words" to make it work…_

Reaching for the file again, he looked the notes of the unknown friend of the Mayor over more carefully. At least this gave him a place to start – although he would need to know more about the types of things that could supposedly be done with this "magic". Reaching for a pad of paper that had been left on the counter, he made a note to himself to ask the Mayor for specifics about what these "witches" were capable of doing. If there was a commonality between what they were able to do…

The problem had reached a point that was actually starting to catch his interest, although he was reluctant to admit it. Although his field of specialty was genetics, his area of focus of late had been human mutations – and at the moment it was looking as if this project was an extension of that field.

The door opened again, drawing him out of his thoughts as he saw Faith enter carrying a cell phone. "As promised, you can make your call." She handed him the phone.

For a moment, he was about to call Elizabeth and tell her what was going on, but when he realized that Faith was going to stay in the room with him, he realized that he'd have to change his tactics. No doubt if he tried to tell someone what was happening, she'd stop him in some way.

So how could he get a message out without alerting Faith to his intentions?

"Well, are you going to call her or not?" Faith asked, looking impatient.

"Ah, yes. I was just trying to remember her number," Charles replied. "She just had it changed, and I had it programmed into my phone, but I don't have it memorized yet."

Flipping open the phone, he dialed. He had an idea, now it only remained to be seen if it would work.

* * *

_Bayville, New York…_

Ororo paused next to the phone as she realized that the answering machine light was blinking. Everyone was home…how had they missed a call? After a moment, she realized that the call must have come in when they were in the Danger Room. The Danger Room's control booth was the one room in the house where the phone wouldn't ring – to protect whoever was in the room at the time. If the person running the program was distracted by a phone call, someone inside the room could be hurt. Pressing the button, she listened.

"_You have one new message." _A beep sounded before Charles' voice spoke. _"Hello, Elizabeth. I am sorry that I wasn't able to make it over to your house last night. I was detained by an important matter. I'd like the chance to make it up to you. You can reach me at 408-548-8792. I hope to hear from you soon, my dear. I love you."_

Ororo listened to the message in growing confusion. Why would the Professor have called the school, with a message for his daughter? And whose number was the one that he'd given? That wasn't his cell phone, nor was it the number for the school.

A second beep ended the message and the machine's voice spoke again. "_New message, today at one-nineteen p.m. End of message."_

Logan came around the corner just then and spotted her. "Storm? What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure, Logan. I just noticed that we had a message on the machine, but…well…I'm not sure what to think. Here, listen yourself." She played the message again.

Logan listened closely and as it finished he let out a low growl. "That ain't right. Chuck would never call the school thinking that his daughter was here. Something's wrong, and he must be trying to contact us. That business about being detained…someone's nabbed him."

"But why would they let him call with a message?" Storm wondered.

"Maybe they didn't. Maybe he managed to get to a phone somehow, but he couldn't say exactly where he is because he doesn't know," Logan suggested. "I think we should call the number that he left. He wouldn't have left it without a reason."

Ororo nodded. "Let's go into the Professor's office and use his private line. We don't need the students picking up and hearing about this until we know what's going on." She played the message a third time and wrote the number that the Professor had given them on the pad of paper that sat next to the phone.

Logan nodded and led the way down the hall and into the Professor's study. Ororo closed the door carefully behind herself, and together they moved over to the phone. Ororo turned on the speakerphone and consulted the slip of paper in her hand before she began to dial.

* * *

_Sunnydale…Buffy's house…_

The phone rang and Buffy looked up. She'd stopped by the house long enough to tell her mom that she would be out late that night and to pick up a few more weapons. Hopefully this would be a quick in and out, but knowing her luck, something was bound to go wrong.

She picked up her extension and thumbed it on. "Hello?"

"_Buffy, is that you?"_ A vaguely familiar voice asked.

"Who is this?"

"_Ororo Munro from your father's school in New York. We met last week."_

"Oh! Right!" Buffy said, placing the exotic woman's voice after a moment. "Um, what can I do for you?"

"_Is your father there, Buffy? It's important that we talk to him."_

"No, he's not. I'm not sure where he is," Buffy said. "I haven't seen him since yesterday morning."

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment. _"Was he supposed to come to your house last night for dinner?"_

"He's staying with us now, yes," Buffy said. "Why? Is something wrong with the rest of the students?"

"_No, nothing's wrong here, but he left an odd message on the school's answering machine – a message that was apparently intended for you," _Ororo replied. _"Charles knows the school's number, so there's no way he would have mistaken it for your house. We were rather confused, and a little worried."_

"We?"

"_Yes. Logan, the other teacher is here with me," _Ororo said.

"What did the message say?" Buffy asked.

* * *

_Bayville…_

"Just a minute, Buffy," Ororo looked over at Logan who nodded and went to the Professor's computer. The Professor had set up the phone system so that everything could be controlled not only from the main console in the foyer or the computers in the basement, but from his office as well. It only took a moment to bring up the message from the public line and patch it through the phone so that Buffy could hear it on her end.

There was silence while it played, and for several seconds afterwards. Ororo wondered for a moment if the girl had hung up. "Buffy?"

"_I'm here,"_ the girl replied. She was silent again for a moment. "_I suppose there's no harm in telling you…I think Dad was kidnapped by one of the gangs that I mentioned when you were here. I was supposed to go with him over to his hotel so that he could check out last night after he agreed to stay with Mom and me. But I got held up at a study session with my friend Willow, and by the time I got home, Dad had already decided to go on his own to check out. I tried to meet up with him to walk him home, but I couldn't find him anywhere. We did manage to find his cell phone and his wheelchair in the yard of an empty house."_

Logan let out a soft growl. "He's been nabbed?"

"_I'm pretty sure,"_ she replied. _"The gangs are completely out of control, and the police can't or won't do anything against them. We – my friends and I - spent most of the night looking for him, but we didn't have any luck."_

"He hasn't tried to contact you with his telepathy?" Ororo's fear was growing.

"_No…oh, I'm such an idiot!"_ Buffy exclaimed. _"I didn't even think to try to use my telepathy to find him. I'm still not used to it. If he was trying to reach me, I might have missed it entirely."_

"I'm coming out there," Logan said. "If something's happened to Chuck, anyone involved in it is going to regret their part."

"_No, don't bother," _the girl said quietly, her voice turning hard and determined. "_We're already working on it…and believe me, if something's happened to him, there won't be anywhere on Earth that they can hide where I won't find them._"

The steel in her voice – and the cold rage - made Ororo and Logan pause. Logan shot a questioning look at the weather witch, who shook her head. This wasn't the same girl that she'd met a week ago. There was something different about her – Ororo could sense it, even though all she could hear was Buffy's voice.

"Buffy, if Charles needs help, we'd like to be a part of it," Ororo tried.

"_If I need your help, I'll let you know,"_ Buffy replied. _"But one way or another, this will be settled soon._"

Before Ororo could say anything more, there was a _click_ followed by a dial tone.

* * *

_Sunnydale High…_

"Giles? Giles, are you here?" Buffy called, reentering the library with her bag of weapons, her entire stance speaking of her determination.

"Buffy? What is it?" Her former Watcher came out of his office holding a cup of tea.

"What do you know about telepathy?" Buffy asked.

"Not much, I'm afraid. As we mentioned, there's not a great deal on the subject, and to my knowledge it's not an integral part of the training that the Watcher's receive," Giles replied.

"Would it be possible to locate someone using it?" Buffy asked. "I just talked to the lady from Dad's school…Or-something and another guy named Logan, and they asked if he'd gotten in touch with me through his telepathy."

Giles stared at her for a moment. "Of course! Your father is telepathic…and so are you. He didn't teach you anything about using it to find someone?"

Buffy shook her head. "Nope…but that doesn't mean it's not possible, right? Maybe he just hasn't had a chance to yet. He thought it was more important that I learn how to shield properly first." She looked at him expectantly. "Do you think _you_ could…?"

Giles shook his head slowly. "I'm not even sure how I could advise you to start, Buffy. I could check my books, but…"

Buffy seemed to deflate slightly. "You don't have any ideas?"

Giles set his cup on the counter and headed towards a pile of books that was sitting on the steps near his office door, waiting to be shelved. These were the ones that he had pulled when he had been looking for the reason that the cure for the demon telepathy hadn't worked. He simply hadn't gotten around to shelving them yet, since he'd wanted to look at them for any more information about the subject that they might contain.

"What has he told you about it?" Giles asked.

"Well…how to shield to keep from overhearing thoughts…and he spent a lot of time last weekend showing me how to block a telepathic attack," Buffy replied. "He sort of showed me how to communicate with someone telepathically…but I figured most of that out on my own."

"What if you were to drop your protections, and just try calling out to him, as if you were trying to talk to him?" Giles asked after thinking about it for a short time. "If he's as powerful as it seems, he might hear you."

Buffy thought about that for a moment. "Okay, I could try," she agreed, although she was a little wary about the idea of dropping her shields, not wanting to hear the thoughts of the people around her. But maybe if she lowered her shields just a little bit…

She sat down at the table and closed her eyes, the way her father had told her to in order to help her focus. He had told her that as she got better at and more comfortable with using her powers, she eventually wouldn't need the focusing technique for most of the things that she did with her powers.

After a moment, she concentrated on lowering her shields just a little bit…not enough to make them fall completely, just enough so that she could sneak her call out past them.

_**Dad? Dad, can you hear me? Are you all right? Where are you?**_ she thought, trying to frame her thoughts in a way that he would be able to pick up on, but having no idea if she was actually doing it right. She was trying to keep the memory of what she had done the other night when she'd been worried about her dad looking at her mom's memories. He'd answered her question then, but she wondered if that was because he had heard her, or because he'd just known what she wanted to ask.

_**Dad?**_

She "listened" hard, hoping to hear him responding to her. _**Dad, if you can hear me, please answer me!**_

But there was no response from him, which worried her. _Why can't this stupid telepathy be useful for something – like finding my father when he needs help!?_ she thought, angrily, to herself. _What good is it if it never works when I need it to?_

Buffy sighed and opened her eyes. Giles was watching her, a curious expression on his face. "No joy. Either I was doing something wrong, or he just can't hear me. But I still have the sense that he's alive, and I don't know why!"

Giles frowned for a moment. "Could it be the bond that he spoke of? Even if it's not strong enough to allow you to find or speak to each other, maybe it is strong enough to let you know that he's alive?"

Buffy opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it. She looked thoughtful for a moment before she nodded slowly. "You might be right, Giles. I didn't even think of that. It was just a certainty that I had – that he was alive, and that he's not hurt at the moment."

"Then take comfort in that, dear girl. If something happens to change your sense of him, then we'll start worrying, but for right now, we need to concentrate on our plan. Everyone should be here soon."

Buffy grinned. "And then we're going to give the Mayor a surprise he won't forget."

**Don't forget to review!**


	35. Chapter 34: The Best Laid Plans

_******Author's Note: Hey everyone! I'm so sorry about the wait on this one. I've had the chapter written for almost two weeks, I just hadn't had time to sit down and type it up! My life has been insane since the last post. But, here it is, and I think it's the longest one to date. Enjoy!**  
_

_**Chapter Thirty-Four: The Best Laid Plans…**_

"_**The best laid schemes of mice and men go often askew…"**_

_**-Robert Burns**_

_Bayville…_

"Logan, calm down," Ororo said in her most soothing voice.

"Like hell I will," Logan growled.

"Running off without a plan won't help Charles."

"I've got a plan, Storm. I go to Sunnydale, track the Prof down, and then tear the people holdin' him apart." Wolverine headed out of the room.

"Logan…" Storm called after him with a sigh attached to his name. She didn't even know why she had bothered. Wolverine would never take the cautious route when his temper was inflamed, like it was now. That meant it was up to her to take the precautions that would help to keep him safe while he was charging headlong into trouble.

Fortunately, it was Saturday and if Logan was determined to go on a mission to rescue the Professor, there was no reason that he should go alone when the students were home and would provide excellent back-up. Reaching over to the intercom switch that was built into the Professor's desk, she keyed the system on. "X-Men, assemble in the hanger in five minutes!" It would take Logan at least fifteen minutes to prep the jet, so the students shouldn't have any trouble getting down there before he left.

Leaving the Professor's office, she headed for the elevator that would take her directly to the hanger. Before she reached it, she saw Scott and Jean hurrying down the stairs towards her.

"Rogue and Kitty went down together, and Kurt grabbed Evan and 'ported with him," Scott said.

"What's going on Storm?" Jean asked. "Did Cerebro find another new mutant?"

"I'll fill everyone in when we're all aboard the jet," Storm said simply. The other two nodded and they all entered the elevator as Scott pushed the button that would send it down to the hanger.

The other four students were milling around outside the plane as Logan worked on prepping it for takeoff. When they saw Storm arriving with Scott and Jean they all stood quietly, waiting to hear what was going on.

"X-Men, we're going to California. We're not entirely sure what is going on, but it seems that Professor Xavier might be in some type of trouble."

Looks of concern and alarm flashed across the faces of each student that was present. They all cared greatly about the Professor, and they weren't used to him being in trouble. His telepathy was powerful, and even though he was in a wheelchair, he usually had no difficulty defending himself on the occasions when he came with them on a mission.

"What happened?" Evan asked.

"We received a message from him a short time ago that indicated that he might be in trouble, and when we called his daughter, she wasn't very clear on what was going on," Storm said. Elizabeth had mentioned that she suspected that the Professor was being held against his will, but Storm had no desire to turn the entire team against the Professor's daughter – not if they hoped that she would come to New York to join them.

Storm sighed as she saw Jean's eyes narrow. The younger telepath had undoubtedly picked up on some of her worries, despite her shields. Jean's powers were growing quickly again, which seemed to be common for the young woman. Her telekinesis and telepathy would (sometimes unpredictably) strengthen dramatically before leveling off for a time, only to spike again. It was an unusual pattern, according to the Professor, and he usually took great care to work with Jean to make sure that her powers didn't strengthen so explosively that she lost all control of them. If the cycle was about to start again, it was quite possible that Jean would pick up on any "leaky" thoughts that slipped past Storm's shields without meaning to.

"There's something that you're not telling us, Storm," the young telepath said quietly, but with no accusation in her voice. "How can we help Professor Xavier if we don't know everything that's going on?"

Storm hesitated and glanced at Logan, who was watching from a few feet away as he fueled the plane. He only shrugged and turned back to his task. She turned back to the students and nodded. "There's a chance – and we're not sure of anything yet, which is why I didn't want to mention it – but there is a chance that something may be preventing Professor Xavier from using his powers. Elizabeth claims that he has yet to get in touch with her telepathically, but unless she's a much faster learner than any of us have ever seen, or much more powerful, there's no reason that the Professor shouldn't have been able to reach her – unless something was preventing him from doing so."

More mutters from the students, along with looks of disbelief mingled with outrage. The idea that someone had the ability to keep the Professor – one of the most powerful mutants on the planet – from using his powers was offensive to the youngsters.

"Until we learn more, however, we are not going to assume anything," Storm cautioned them sternly. "There is a great deal that we still don't know about the situation, and this may prove completely unnecessary."

"We can only hope, Storm," Cyclops said quietly.

* * *

_Sunnydale…City Hall basement…Saturday night…_

Charles made another note on the pad of paper in front of him as he turned another page in the file that the Mayor had left for him. He hated to admit it, but the last few hours of looking through the information that had been left for him had pricked his scientific curiosity and awakened his interest in the project.

While the information was a little scant on details and corroborating proof, there was enough detail given to make him wonder what other information might be out there. It had been a long time since he'd had a new project to sink his teeth into. He was still charting and analyzing human mutations when they appeared, but that was an ongoing project and most of the initial work had been done already. At the moment he was in the data-amassing stage, but many geneticists worked on multiple projects at once due to the sheer amount of data needed to confirm a theory. So, having a new project to work on – even if it wasn't by his own choice – was enough to peak his interest.

The _click_ of the door being opened drew his attention away from the files. He looked up to see Faith standing in the doorway. The last time he'd seen her had been when she had brought his lunch down to him, and since then she'd changed her outfit. Before, she'd been wearing tight-fitting black jeans, a very low cut maroon shirt, and black leather boots that came up to her knees. Now, she was dressed even more seductively – a deep V-neck black silk shirt with a sheer midriff, blood-red leather pants that hugged every curve of her hips and legs, and black leather boots with silver chains and buckles that came up to mid-calf. Her dark wavy hair was half pulled up in a careless twist, with the other half down around her shoulders.

"C'mon, Prof. Time for you to go back to your room for the night," his guard ordered impatiently.

Charles closed the file folder, watching her carefully as he did so. He wished he knew what was driving her to help Wilkins – and what her relationship to his daughter was. He was tempted to probe her mind to find out some of the answers, but his ethical considerations made him hesitate. Thus far, she hadn't acted openly against him, and invading her privacy in that fashion was not only rude, it might cause her to fight back in a way that could damage her mind. At the very least, it was an incredible violation of self for her – no matter how careful he was, without getting her permission first, it would seem like a type of mental rape, and he couldn't bring himself to do that to her except in self-defense.

There were also some other considerations for his own safety to consider. Given the barrier over City Hall, and the way that people in this town seemed to react to his telepathy, he didn't want to reveal a hidden asset to her when he might need it later. If he moved to take control of her mind and she had some protection against him the way the Mayor did, she could react violently and he wouldn't have any way to stop her. He couldn't afford to take the chance until he was sure that any action on his part would be successful.

Setting his hands on the wheels of his chair and turning it away from the counter, he faced her. With gentle, controlled pushes, he sent the chair across the room to where she stood at the door. As he passed her, she pushed the door shut and fell into step beside him as they headed for the elevator.

"Faith, how old are you?" Charles ventured to ask her, keeping his voice light and gentle. He wanted to find out some of the answers to the questions that had been bothering him, and he decided to start with something simple.

"What's it to you?" she snapped, her voice full of irritation. Beneath the outward front that she presented, however, he could sense uneasiness and defensiveness.

"You seem to be about the same age as my students and my daughter, and I'm curious as to why you're working with the Mayor like this," Charles replied honestly. "You must have noticed that he is not a good man."

The elevator doors slid open and Faith brushed past him and stepped inside to hold the doors open. Charles moved in beside her, carefully turning his borrowed wheelchair around in the cramped space, still waiting for an answer.

His patient silence was apparently enough to wear his "escort" down. "He's the only friend I've got – the only one who cares about me," Faith finally said, before she fell silent.

"What about your parents?"

She showed no outward response to his question, but despite his shields and the fact that he did have them up, he got an answer nonetheless. A powerful memory slammed into them and, catching him by surprise, slammed past his shields. Images of a tall man beating on a young, dark-haired girl and a woman in her thirties, more images of both adults perpetually drunk, and worst of all, images of the man forcing himself on the girl filled his mind, unchecked.

It took him a moment to recover from the surprise, but he immediately reinforced his shields, cutting off the images that she was sending. Unfortunately, it was too late for him to avoid seeing the memories that she was projecting, and it made some things crystal clear to her. He had noted that she had a mental aura that was tainted by pain, torment, and anger, but he'd had no idea what could have caused such a complete darkening of her mental signature. Now, however, it made sense, as did her attitude of seductive sexuality and aggressiveness.

And, knowing what he did now, he couldn't use his powers to control her, unless it was a matter of life and death. She'd been through enough, and been hurt enough. Unless and until she attacked him or someone else, he wouldn't act against her.

They rode in silence up to the top floor of City Hall, and didn't speak again until they reached the room that was Charles' prison. Faith unlocked the door and pushed it open, and Charles steered himself inside. She followed him into the room.

"The chair, Prof."

Charles turned the chair to face her. "May I request that you leave it here? It is much more comfortable for me than sitting on that cot. I can't escape, if that is what the Mayor is worried about, given the guard that is outside the door. Does it really matter if it is in the room or not?"

Faith hesitated for a moment, obviously considering his words, before she shrugged. "Whatever." With that, she turned and left the room, locking the door behind her.

Charles sighed and looked around the room again. He had a little more mobility now, but no real freedom. He wondered if his X-Men had received his message – surely they had by now! – and if they had understood it. If he knew Logan as well as he thought he did, they were already on their way. If that was the case, and he was still a prisoner when they arrived, the Mayor would quickly learn the error of his ways, because Wolverine would show no mercy.

All he could do – all he _had_ to do – was wait.

* * *

_Sunnydale High Library…same time…_

Oz picked up the large ceramic pot that Willow and Giles had left for them to use in the ritual and carried it over to the stand in the center of the room. While he would have preferred to be with Willow for this raid, they were going for speed and secrecy, not outright fighting.

The doors opened to admit Xander, who was carrying a bag from the magic store.

"You got the goods?" Oz asked.

"Yeah. Essence of toad, twice-blessed sage…" Xander paused and looked at the ingredients in his hand. "Or maybe that's the toad?"

For a moment, Oz wondered if Xander had goofed and bought the wrong ingredients. "We'd better be sure. Destroying this box is supposed to be a pretty delicate operation." The last thing they needed was to do something to cause a bigger threat than the Mayor.

"Then they shouldn't leave it in the hands of the lay people," Xander complained as he headed over to the table.

"Will's got it pretty well laid out," Oz handed Xander several sheets of pink paper.

"Wow, she even drew helpful diagrams." Xander studied the papers for a moment. "That's the pedestal?"

"And all the ingredients. And us. See. There's me - and that's you."

"How can you tell which is which? They both look kinda stick-figure-y to me."

Oz pointed at one of the figures. "That's me. That's my guitar, see?"

"Oh. Got ya."

"Nobody like my Will," Oz said fondly, before a faint feeling of worry filled him. But after a moment, he banished it. Buffy would keep Willow safe, and they'd be back soon."

"No sir, there is not," Xander agreed.

"Okay. Toad me."

* * *

_City Hall…nine forty-five P.M…Saturday_

Wesley pulled up in the driveway and shifted the van to park, leaving the motor running.

"Okay, end of the line," Buffy said quietly as she slid the door open. She jumped out, and then reached back in for a black backpack. Slinging it over her shoulder, she stepped back to allow Angel and Willow to jump out after her. Angel took the bag from her as she slid the door closed and then stepped up to the passenger-side window.

"Now remember, if anything should go awry, Wesley and I will create a diversion," Giles told them, a look of concern on his face.

"Let's synchronize our watches. I have twenty-one four…" Wesley trailed off as Buffy and Willow showed him their bare wrists. He sighed. "Yes, yes. Typical."

"Maybe we could just count. One one-thousand, two one-thousand…" Willow offered.

"Be careful, all of you," Giles admonished them gently.

Buffy smiled at her former Watcher before she led the way over to the east side of the building and located the fire escape ladder. As Angel – the tallest of the group – reached up to pull it down, she frowned at an odd sensation that went through her. It wasn't her vamp-sense, which was tingling enough to let her know there were definitely vampires inside. It was something else…something both foreign and familiar.

Willow had already started up the ladder, and Angel was waiting to let her up first. When she didn't move, trying to place what she was sensing, he touched her on the shoulder. "Buffy? What's wrong?"

Buffy shook her head slightly and reached for the ladder. "Nothing. Just thinking." She scaled the ladder quickly and pulled herself over the edge of the roof. Angel was right behind her and as soon as she was clear he tossed the backpack up to the roof.

Buffy scooped it up and carried it over to where Willow was standing next to the skylight. She reached into the bag and pulled out an old book. Willow took it and began flipping through it, looking for the spell she needed.

Angel joined them and opened the skylight as Buffy reached back into the bag and removed a glass jar filled with a crystalline powder. The box was below them, sitting in the center of the conference table. There were no outward, visible signs of protections or alarms, but they had to be there. There was no way the Mayor would leave something this crucial to his Ascension completely unguarded. She handed the pack off to Angel, who immediately began pulling the last surprise from it – climbing rope and harness, and a pulley system.

"You ready, Wills?" Buffy asked in a whisper, uncapping the jar and handing it to her best friend.

Willow nodded and consulted the book before she started carefully shaking the powder out of the jar and through the skylight. As it fell, glittering, toward the box, a softly glowing blue dome shimmered into sight. "_Sis modo dissolutum exposco, validum scutum! Diutius nec defende a manibus arcam, intende!"_

As she spoke the last words, there was a bright flash before the dome melted away, leaving a ring of powder around the box, just before a second, softer flash crackled between the box and the skylight. Both girls jumped slightly.

"What was that?" Buffy whispered, half-expecting that they'd tripped an alarm. But nothing seemed to happen.

"I – I think there must have been a second shield protecting the room," Willow said after a moment. "The spell must have taken them both out."

They waited several seconds more, but everything remained quiet and calm. Slowly, a grin crossed the young witch's face. "Oh, yeah, I'm bad."

Buffy smiled. "Four stars Wil. Now take off." She paused again at the odd feeling that went through her. It was so familiar…

"Taking off," Willow agreed, taking the backpack from Angel and stuffing the book and the now-empty jar inside. She swung it onto her shoulder and started toward the fire escape. As Angel turned to Buffy and started helping her into the harness, she clambered over the parapet and onto the ladder, heading for the ground and the van where Wesley and Giles were waiting.

* * *

Charles looked up alertly from his meditations as he sensed something change in his surroundings. The supreme, almost hyper-awareness that he had developed with his powers in regards to the people around him applied equally as well to other types of changes. It took him barely a moment to process the sensation before he closed his eyes and focused his powers.

He sent out a mental probe and tested his surroundings, and realized almost immediately that the strange barrier that had been blocking his telepathy was gone as if it had never been there at all.

However tempting it as to call out to Elizabeth, however, he held himself in check. It could be a trap of some kind, perhaps a ploy of the Mayor's. He had not learned the proper use of his powers without some risk, but there was a difference between making a calculated risk and diving into a situation without taking the time to test it and make a plan.

If it was a trap, what was the point? The Mayor must already suspect something, given that he had not only repelled Charles' psychic attack, he had actually sensed it. Granted, he had mistaken it for some kind of witchcraft, not telepathy, but that was only more reason why this could be a trap. It could be that the Mayor was trying to force him into making a rash action that would reveal the limits of Charles' powers to him.

He continued to "watch" the area where the barrier had been, waiting to see if it was only down temporarily and would suddenly snap back into place when he didn't do anything about the changed situation. But nothing happened after several moments. Either the Mayor was incredibly patient and was willing to wait as long as it took Charles to take advantage of the "gift" or it wasn't a trap at all and something else had forced the barrier to fall.

But what could it have been? It was true that barriers and shields were always easier to break from the outside than the inside, but given the strength of that particular one, he couldn't think of anyone who would have the knowledge _or_ the skill to do so. Jean's powers were still growing, and although he had no doubt that she would one day be able to do something of this sort, dismantling a barrier of this type required skills he hadn't taught her yet. The same went for Elizabeth. And since it wasn't a _physical_ barrier, none of his other students had any power that could affect it.

Finally, he decided to take a chance. He mentally braced himself and sent out another probe, seeking his daughter's mental signature. The fledgling bond that they had would make it easier to find her than even finding one of his students – and he knew their mental signatures much more intimately than he knew his daughter's.

To his surprise, his probe had barely left before it found her. She was almost right on top of him – literally! She was on the roof of City Hall…but what was she doing there?

_**Elizabeth?**_

* * *

_**Elizabeth?**_

The mental voice flashed through her consciousness as Buffy hung from the harness they'd brought, with Angel slowly lowering her towards the box via a pulley system. She started, stiffing abruptly, causing her to swing back and forth for a moment. She caught Angel by surprise and the rope suddenly slipped, dropping her several inches towards the box before he caught the rope and held it fast while she stopped swinging.

"Buffy?" the vampire called down. "What happened?"

Buffy shook her head slightly. At first she thought it was a trick, but she slowly lowered her mental shields a tiny bit and called back to the voice. _**Dad?**_

_**Elizabeth, what are you doing here?**_ Her father's "voice" was calm, but tinged with surprise and curiosity.

_**Um…honestly, Dad, you really don't want to know**_.

She didn't expect that answer to satisfy him, and she was right. A moment later, she blinked as he father appeared in front of her – or rather, an image of her father, since it was eerily transparent and floating in mid-air. For a wild moment, she thought it was a ghost, until she realized that the faint feeling of her father – through their bond? – was still telling her that he was alive and well.

He took in the sight of her hanging from a harness suspended in mid-air over the conference table, and the box below her. _**What are you doing? **_he asked, and this time his voice was stern and demanding an answer.

"Buffy?" Angel called, softly, again. "What is going on? Are you all right?"

"Nothing, Angel," she called back. "Keep going! I'm almost there." As Angel started to lower her again she turned her attention back to her father. _**Are you all right, Dad? I've been worried.**_

_**I'm fine, but you haven't answered my question.**_

_Crap…_Buffy thought. _How am I going to explain this? _She looked back at the image? – of her father. _**Dad…please…I'll try to explain later. But where are you? Why haven't you done this before?**_

* * *

_**I'm here in City Hall. I'm locked in a storage room on the top floor**_, Charles told her, throttling back his impatience at her refusal to answer his question. Whatever she was up to, she _would_ be explaining it later. _**The Mayor had one of his men bring me here last night. He had some genetic project he wanted me to help him with, and he threatened to get one of my friends involved if I didn't help him.**_

He could feel his daughter's suppressed fury at his answer. Although she kept her face expressionless, he could see her green eyes blaze for a moment. _**The Mayor? Why that…that…evil, manipulative, son of a – **_

_**Elizabeth!**_ Charles snapped at her.

_**I can't, Dad,**_ she told him, although her mental voice didn't sound sorry at all. He watched as she suddenly looked up and called softly towards the ceiling. "Okay, Angel, stop! Get ready to pull me back!"

_**Elizabeth…**_he started to say as she leaned her weight forward, flipping over in the harness so that her head was pointed towards the floor. Her hands were inches away from the box that Faith had brought the Mayor the previous night.

_**Whoops, um…sorry Dad,**_ she told him. _**No time right now. Hang tight though…I'll get you out tonight.**_

_**Elizabeth…what…**_he tried again, but too late. All he could do was watch as she hesitated for a moment, before she reached down and grasped the handles on the sides of the box. She paused for a moment, her eyes closed as if expecting something.

Nothing happened.

* * *

Breathing out slowly, she lifted the box a few inches off the table. "Got it!"

**BRRRRRRINNNNNG!**

If she'd been on her feet, she might have jumped at the sound, even though she'd been more than half expecting it. Instead, she twisted her head to look up at Angel when she continued to hang in mid-air above the table. "Oh…Angel?!"

"It's jammed!" he called back.

From out in the hallway, she could hear the sound of running footsteps coming closer. She glanced up at the vampire on the roof again. "Like very much to come up now please!"

_**Elizabeth! **_

"Not now, Dad, sorry!" Buffy called to his image, hoping that he could still hear her. She looked back towards the door as she heard keys in the lock. "Angel!"

"I know!" he called back, still struggling with the rope.

The doors opened suddenly, revealing two vampires, who both paused at the sight of her hanging there holding the Mayor's precious box. She smiled at them. "Don't suppose you wanna help me get down?"

The vampires snarled at her, their evilly twisted faces looking eager at the thought of killing the helpless Slayer. She sighed. "Didn't think so."

* * *

Charles could only watch helplessly through the eyes of his astral projection as his daughter hung in the air, staring at the Mayor's men – both of whom seemed to be oddly deformed. Their faces were twisted in what he would almost have called a demonic way.

They started to lunge towards her when Angel suddenly dropped down onto the table, feet first. He snatched the box that Elizabeth was holding and held it up like a shield as one of the Mayor's men threw a punch, hitting the box instead of Angel. Immediately after that, Angel kicked out with his foot and caught the second man in the head, knocking him back.

Simultaneously, Elizabeth arched her back and flipped herself upright, managing to kick the first man away from her as she came to land on her feet in a move that Charles suspected Logan would envy. With her feet under her, she unstrapped herself from the harness, reached up and grabbed the harness, and when the man lunged for her again, she picked her feet up so that he went sliding underneath her. She dropped her feet, stomping on his back, and from there jumped to the floor. Her assailant straightened and turned, throwing his momentum into a punch that she ducked easily, before she laid one of her own across his jaw, grabbed him by the shoulders, and flung him away from her.

Meanwhile, Angel had used the Mayor's box as a weapon, smashing it into the second man's face, and then dropping it on his foot before he punched the man squarely in the jaw and sent him flying off the table at the same time Elizabeth had flung her opponent. Angel's attacker jumped to his feet, picked up one of the leather upholstered chairs and tossed it at Angel before lunging for the box.

Angel caught the chair, and brought it smashing down on the man's back, knocking him away from the box long enough for him to slide it down the table to Elizabeth. Then he rolled over the table on his back and kicked his attacker in the face again.

Charles watched it all with astonishment. The men that his daughter and her boyfriend were fighting were taking every blow that the two of them could dish out and coming back for more. But he didn't fail to note that there was a synchronicity in the moves that Elizabeth and Angel were using. Without a word exchanged between them, they seemed to know exactly where the other person was. He'd heard Logan speaking to the students about that many times – about being aware of who and what was around at all times during a fight – but none of the students had ever managed to do it without some form of communication, whether it was verbal or using Jean as a telepathic relay.

Elizabeth had taken the opportunity to kick her attacker back again, and then she turned towards the table and grabbed the box. She dodged away from her attacker, who had recovered from being slammed into the wall twice and backed towards the doors of the room. When he lunged at her again, she allowed him to grab the box. With his hands full and unable to defend himself, she kicked him in the knee, hit him twice across the face, and then kicked him in the stomach again. He dropped to his knees and she kicked him across the face again, making him release the box, which she grabbed and tossed, without looking, across the room to Angel.

He was so aware of her that even as she was beating up on her opponent, he had punched his enemy twice in the face, picked him up and flipped him over the table, and then when the man jumped on top of the table, grabbed his ankles and flipped him onto the floor before he reached up and caught the box when Elizabeth tossed it to him. He tucked it somewhat awkwardly under his arm and waited as Elizabeth picked up a vase full of flowers from a nearby sideboard, and tossed it at the Mayor's men, shattering it over their heads. She ran around to join her boyfriend and without saying anything, they each grabbed the heavy conference table and picked it up, flipping it over and pinning the Mayor's men beneath its weight. Then, taking advantage of the situation, they raced for the door, Angel carrying the box.

_**Dad! Where are you?**_ Elizabeth called out to him. _**How far from the conference room are you?**_

_**I'm not sure, Elizabeth! There's a guard outside the room, and I'm locked in!**_ he called back to her, hurriedly withdrawing his astral projection back into his mind. He couldn't believe what he had just witnessed. It was one thing for his daughter to claim to be a black belt and able to take care of herself, but it was quite another thing to see her beating up on a man who was almost twice her size.

It was something that he had never expected to see.

* * *

"Angel, do you see any guards up ahead?" Buffy called. "My dad is here! The Mayor's got him! We've gotta get him!"

"Buffy, there's no time! Giles and Wesley would have heard the alarm. We have to get out of here!" Angel called back over his shoulder. "Is your dad hurt?"

"No, he says not…but we can't leave him here!"

"We're going to have to!" Angel called. "We know he's here now, we'll come back for him, but we have to get the box to safety first!"

"I…" she started to argue, but they blundered around a corner just then, trying to get to the main stairs, and almost ran right into another vampire. Angel threw the box up to protect himself as the surprised vampire recovered quickly enough to throw a punch.

Buffy ducked around Angel and grabbed the vamp, picking him up and tossing him over her shoulder and down the hall where he crashed into a chair and a potted plant, bringing both down on top of him and causing a traffic jam as their pursuers tripped over him and went down in a heap.

She whirled to face the door that the vampire had been standing in front of as the faint sense that she had of her father suddenly started tingling like crazy. "Angel, he's in here! Can you hold them off for a few seconds?"

"Hurry, Buffy!"

Setting herself, she pulled her leg back and drove a powerful sidekick into the door, right above the lock, splintering it and causing the door to fly open. Her father was sitting in a wheelchair at the far side of the room, in front of a poor excuse for a cot.

"Elizabeth!" her father cried, shock and surprise coloring his voice. "What're you…?"

She raced into the room, started to reach for the wheelchair, but realized they'd never get away in time if she pushed him out of the building. She had no choice…she had to reveal her secret – part of it at least. Reaching down, she slid one hand beneath his legs and another around his shoulders, scooping him up into her arms with ease. Pivoting sharply, she raced for the door again, her father cradled in her arms.

Angel was blocking the other three vampires from coming after them, and as she ran out of the room, he kicked one back into the other two, making them stumble again. Turning on his heel, he ran after her as she reached the stairs.

* * *

Charles couldn't believe it when his daughter apparently kicked the door of the room where he was being held open. The door actually splintered as if it was made of balsa wood instead of oak. She raced into the room, paused barely long enough to look at him, before she picked him up and raced out of the room as if he weighed nothing. She was trying to be careful, but she was moving quickly and another flash of pain came from her unintentional rough handling.

Burdened as she was, she shouldn't have been able to move as fast as she was as they raced through the hallway with Angel on her heels – she shouldn't have been able to carry him in the first place, since he was not a small man! But she wasn't even panting or out of breath from the fight or the race, and it made him wonder – in the few seconds that he had to process what was going on – if his suspicion about her having enhanced strength as a mutant power had been right after all.

When she tore down the marble stairs, barely even looking where she put her feet, he had to close his eyes, expecting that at any second she was going to slip and they were going to go flying down the stairs head over heels. But she kept her balance and darted toward the front doors as they reached the ground floor several flights later.

Angel put on a burst of speed and got in front of them long enough to shove on the bar that would open the door so that Charles wouldn't take the impact of running into it. They paused at the top of the few stairs that led into the building before they turned as one and darted into the shadows at the side of the building. Angel flipped over the low retaining wall head first, hit the ground on his shoulders, and rolled back to his feet, crouching down immediately as Elizabeth leapt over the wall, still holding Charles close to her, and landed lightly on her feet. She also crouched down, lowering him to the ground, and before he could say or do anything, she clapped a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet.

The sound of the doors opening behind them was almost covered by the sound of tires squealing on asphalt. Charles couldn't see what was going on, but the footsteps that had been chasing them ran off in the opposite direction, going the same way as the speeding car. There were two heartbeats of silence before Elizabeth indicated that he should stay quiet and she and Angel rose slowly to their feet.

"They're gone," Angel said in a whisper after a moment. "Giles and Wesley will lose them across town before they head back to the library."

"Let's go," Elizabeth said quietly. "Xander and Oz are waiting for us." She looked down at her father and knelt down to pick him up again.

Before she could, Charles fixed her with a look that he knew had to be a combination of everything he was feeling at the moment. Chief among them were surprise, confusion, suspicion, desperation, and probably a hint of anger. She paused for a moment as she took in the look.

"Elizabeth, what is going on?" he demanded, his tone somewhat harsh and desperate. "I've been kidnapped, forced to work on some genetic project for a man who is clearly delusional, seen my daughter break into City Hall and steal something that belongs to the Mayor, watched you beat up two men, been rescued, and then seen my life flash before my eyes as we raced through that building! For the last time…_what is going on?_"

She looked at him, then at Angel, and then back at him. "Um…would you believe a really violent game of capture the flag?"

**Don't forget to review!**

**L****atin translation (from the show, not mine!)**  
_Sis modo dissolutum exposco, validum scutum! Diutius nec defende a manibus arcam, intende!"_ - Be now dissolved, I demand, o powerful shield; no longer defend the box from our hands. Hear us!


	36. Chapter 35: Attempted Deflections

******Author's Note: Hello everyone! I'm sorry for the tiny delay on this chapter...it just didn't want to stop! So it's definitely a bit longer than usual, and I hope that makes up for the wait! I should have the next chapter out soon, but with school winding down, things are becoming somewhat chaotic. I will do my very best to get it to you ASAP!**

_**Chapter Thirty-Five: Attempted Deflections**_

"_**Truth is stranger than fiction because fiction has to make sense."**_

_**- Liralin Li**_

_Downtown Sunnydale…earlier…_

"All right, 'Ro. You're gonna have to lead from here," Logan said. "You've been here before, so where do we go?"

Instead of answering him, Storm turned to Jean. "Jean, can you contact the Professor now?" The teen had been attempting to reach the Professor via her telepathic powers for over an hour, with no luck. Now that they were in Sunnydale, and more within Jean's range, it was time to make another attempt.

"I'll try," Jean replied quietly, closing her eyes. Her hands drifted up to her temples in an unconscious gesture as she focused her powers, concentrating on trying to reach the Professor. _**Professor? Can you hear me? It's Jean.**_ She paused for a moment, waiting for a response. _**Professor? Please, if you can hear me, answer me!**_

For several minutes she continued to call out to her mentor, with no luck. When that tactic failed, she switched to a mental probe, using a technique the Professor had taught her to make a wide sweep of the town as much as she could. It was a skill she was still learning, and it was easier in Bayville, where she was familiar with the town. As her probe swept through the town, she carefully and lightly touched the mind of each person she encountered, absorbing their mental pattern and comparing it to the mental pattern that she had of the Professor.

Normally, when she was more confident as to where she could find him – for example, if she knew he was at the mansion – she could simply shoot a probe at him and locate his mental pattern with relative ease. But this was an area that she was unfamiliar with, and since she had no idea where the Professor might be, she had to take the time to do a more detailed search.

Unfortunately, she had no more luck with the probe than with calling out to the Professor. Opening her eyes, she shook her head at Logan and Storm's expectant looks. "He's not answering, and I tried a mental probe too. I was thinking that he might have been in a position where he _can't_ answer – that he might be unconscious – but a probe would still tell me _where_ to find him."

"And the probe didn't give you anything?" Logan asked.

Jean shook her head. "No. Either he's being blocked by something like you suspected, or he's not in Sunnydale anymore." _Or he's dead…_but she wasn't going to say that out loud.

She suspected that Storm and Logan had come to the same realization, but like her, they weren't going to say anything to the others. No one would want to admit that the Professor might be dead. The idea was too horrible to contemplate – what would they do without him?

"All right," Storm said. "I know where the Professor's daughter lives…we'll start there, with Elizabeth and Mrs. Summers. They might be able to tell us more than she did on the phone."

"Let's go," Logan said.

* * *

_Outside City Hall…present time…_

"Capture the flag?" Charles said, incredulously. "Elizabeth, you don't really expect me to believe that, do you?"

Angel interrupted before Buffy could respond. "We don't have time to discuss this here. Professor, can you hold your questions until we get back to the high school?"

Charles desperately wanted to know what was going on, but he saw the wisdom in what Angel was asking, and – reluctantly – he nodded in agreement.

Angel looked around again. "Okay, let's go."

Buffy bent down, not thinking about what she was doing, and once again scooped her father up into her arms, cradling his weight easily before she started to follow Angel.

It took all of Charles' control not to comment on his daughter's casual display of strength. Logically, there was no way that she should be able to carry him, but she was doing so as if he weighed no more than a couple of grocery bags. He had noticed it two nights ago when she had pulled his wheelchair up the stairs as if it was nothing, but had dismissed it as knowing how to use the proper leverage, and the added strength that she had to have from being a cheerleader and a black belt.

It seemed that assumption had been drastically wrong.

The three of them were silent all the way back to the high school, which, by Charles' estimate was at least two miles, if not more. And Elizabeth carried him easily the entire way, without showing any kind of strain or breathlessness when they finally reached the campus. Angel continued to lead the way as they walked around the building to a door that had a sign next to it reading "Library".

"What are we doing?" Charles finally said. "Won't the school be locked?"

Elizabeth smiled. "Nope. Giles was going to meet us here, so he'll have the door open for us."

Angel reached forward and pulled on the handle, and true to her word, the door opened easily. He stepped aside and held the door open so that Buffy could get through with her burden, before he slipped inside behind her and allowed the door to close.

The hallway lights were off, but the two of them moved unerringly through the passages, ignoring the various classroom doors that lined the halls. They rounded several corners until they reached the double doors leading into the library. Once again, Angel pulled open the door and held it for Buffy so that she could carry her father inside.

Charles looked around the library as they entered. Mr. Giles was standing next to the checkout counter, looking at a book. The younger man that he had seen the day he'd come to the school looking for Elizabeth was standing near the table, as were two boys about Elizabeth's age. One had dark brown hair and brown eyes, and the other had sandy brown hair and fingernails that had been painted black.

In the middle of the floor was a pedestal made of iron, with a large ceramic pot resting on it, and on the table next to the two boys were various herbs and plants. Inside the pot, something was burning, since a thin trail of smoke edged up from beneath the rim.

Buffy stopped and studied the others as they looked up. "Where's Willow?"

* * *

_City Hall…_

"Well this is very unfortunate," Mayor Wilkins looked around the destroyed conference room. The vampires who had been guarding the room looked nervous and chagrined at the fact that the Slayer had been able to steal the box – and the prisoner. "I just had this conference room redecorated, for Pete's sake. At taxpayers' expense too!" He looked around the room and picked up a chair that had been turned over in the fight. "And, oh, yeah…" He grabbed the chair and flung it into the corner. "THEY'VE GOT MY BOX!"

"Yeah. They do."

Wilkins turned around at the sound of Faith's voice. The dark Slayer had entered the room with Willow in her arms, her new knife pressed to the other girl's throat. A deeply satisfied look was on Faith's face, while a look of fear and apprehension was on Willow's.

"But lookee what we got."

A slow smile crossed the Mayor's face. "Well, well…this might work out after all." He crossed over to where Faith and Willow were standing. "What were your little friends going to do with my box?"

"I'm not going to tell you anything," Willow said, defiantly, although she couldn't keep her voice from trembling. She had made it off the roof, but before she could make it in sight of the van, Faith had come up from behind her and grabbed her, putting the knife to her throat to keep her from screaming.

She hadn't been this close to Faith since the other girl had gone rogue, and she didn't know what the younger Slayer would do. Faith was apparently willing to hurt others, but Willow had done her best to be Faith's friend, even when it had seemed like Buffy was spending more time with the other Slayer than with her. She had tried to understand that Buffy and Faith were much stronger when they worked together, and she knew that Buffy had never really liked it when she and Xander would patrol with her – she had always been too worried about their safety.

Frankly, she had been jealous of Faith – she'd thought that the other Slayer was stealing her best friend away from her – and no doubt some of that must have been conveyed to the other Slayer, which might have been one reason why it was so easy for her to join the Mayor.

The Mayor shook his head. "You know, if I wanted to, I could have Faith take your head off right here, and she'd do it, wouldn't you, Faith?" His tone was mild and completely calm, as if he was just asking Faith what she thought about the weather.

Faith nodded and pressed the knife a little more deeply against Willow's neck, as if waiting for the order.

"But," the Mayor continued, looking at the two of them. "For the moment, I think we'll wait on that. By now your friends must know that we have you, just like I know they have my box. The ball's in their court, so to speak. I think we'll wait and see what _they_ do." He turned to look at the vampires that were waiting behind him. "Take her back to the Professor's room and lock her in."

_The Professor? Could that be Buffy's father?_ Willow wondered. If so…maybe together the two of them could find a way to escape.

As the vamps moved forward, Wilkins reached out and took the elbow of one of them. When the vampire paused, looking at the Mayor for further instructions, he nodded.

"You are responsible for guarding her. If she escapes…dusting will be the most pleasant thing I do to you. Is that understood?" Wilkins had a calm smile on his face as he waited for a response.

The vampire, already pale, blanched a pure white at the Mayor's words and the calmly sincere tone, which Willow would have found hilarious if she didn't have a knife at her throat. He nodded and moved quickly to Willow's side and took her arm, twisting it behind her back as Faith released her.

"Buffy'll stop you, you know," Willow called back over her shoulder as the vampire marched her out of the conference room.

"Oh, I sincerely doubt that," the Mayor said cheerfully, waving the vampires on before he turned to Faith. "Good job, my dear," he continued. "Once again, you've proven your initiative."

Faith shrugged off the compliment. "What are you gonna do about the Prof? Buffy rescued him – not sure why – but now he can't work on your project."

The Mayor nodded thoughtfully. "I'll put a little call in to Moira MacTaggert – although I suspect that Xavier will contact her first and warn her not to listen to me. At the least, I need to put in the effort of trying to get her here. If I can't get the project finished, my friend will find a way to get it done – and its possible that Xavier's interest will have been pricked enough that he'll try to find a way to continue the research on his own." He shrugged. "Either way, I'll let my friend know and if Xavier does continue the research, he'll find a way to get hold of it."

* * *

_Sunnydale High Library…_

Buffy moved further into the room slowly, still holding Charles, and not even aware of it. The tension in the room – already high while Xander, Oz, Giles, and Wesley waited to see if the theft had been successful – had risen to a boiling point.

"How did you let –" Buffy paused for a moment. Blaming anyone wouldn't help the situation. After a moment she continued. "How did this happen?"

"We thought she stayed with you," Giles replied quietly.

"They must have grabbed her when she hit the ground. Buffy, I'm sorry –" Angel began.

"It's nobody's fault; we just gotta focus and deal. Oz, I swear I won't let them hurt her." Buffy realized that she was still holding her father and without saying anything else, she walked over to where Giles had left his wheelchair and carefully set him back in it. "Dad, are you all right, really?" she asked quietly.

Charles settled back into his chair with a sigh of relief. "I'm fine, Elizabeth," he told her quietly. Elizabeth had been trying to be as careful as possible when she was carrying him, but it had still been painful and at least now any movement he made could be made under his own power and to his own degree of comfort. He still wanted answers, but it was plain that right now Elizabeth's focus was on her friend. He checked his impatience and his need for answers and focused again on the conversation, hoping to at least glean some answers from what his daughter and her friends were discussing.

"It's simple," the dark-haired boy said firmly. "We go back. Full on assault."

"No, Xander. They'll kill her if we do," Mr. Giles protested.

"We're assuming they haven't already," the other man said, which made the boy with the black fingernails clench his hands tightly although he didn't speak.

Elizabeth ran her fingers through her hair. "No. They know what she means to us. She's too valuable, and as long as we've got the box –" she paused and her green eyes lit up. "The box. We trade."

"We can't," the other man spoke again.

Elizabeth shook her head. "It's the best plan; it's the safest way, right?"

"It might well be –" Mr. Giles agreed.

"We call the Mayor, arrange a meeting."

"This box must be destroyed."

"I need a volunteer to hit Wesley," Xander said.

"Giles, you know I'm right about this," Wesley appealed to Mr. Giles.

"Wes, you want to duck and cover at this point?" Elizabeth asked, a frown crossing her face as she balled up her fist.

"Dammit, you listen to me!" Wesley snapped, his voice full of authority. Charles almost interceded at the tone in the younger man's voice – no one talked to his daughter that way. But after a moment, he stopped himself. He still had no clue what this was about, or why his daughter had stolen the box from the Mayor in the first place. No one would welcome his interference.

"This box is the key," Wesley continued. "Thousands of lives depend on our getting rid of it. Now I want to help Willow as much as the rest of you, but we will find another way."

"There is no other way," Elizabeth protested. "If we destroy the box, the Mayor will kill her. If we try to go back for her, they will either kill her, or they will be waiting in such great numbers that even _I_ couldn't fight my way through them."

"You're the one who said take the fight to the Mayor, and you were right. This is the town's best hope of survival," Wesley pointed out.

"All right, let's deal with this rationally –" Giles inserted.

"I can't believe you're taking his side!" Elizabeth turned on Giles.

"Nobody said I was taking his side."

Angel shook his head and took a step forward. "None of this is helping."

"I'm still for the "let's hit Wesley" movement, if anyone cares," Xander put his two cents in.

"Listen to you people!" Wesley yelled, bringing everyone else to silence. "You'd sacrifice thousands of lives – your families, your friends? It can all end right here! We have the means to destroy this box –"

Charles was completely lost, but before anyone could say anything else, the boy whom his daughter had referred to as Oz stood up, calmly walked over to the pedestal and seized the pot. Turning away, he then flung the pot across the room to shatter in the corner, spilling charred leaves and powders across the floor along with the pottery shards.

The violent destruction brought the entire argument to a halt. All eyes turned to the boy who stared at them before he turned, quite decisively, to Buffy, giving her the floor.

"Giles make the call," Buffy ordered. "Mayor McSleaze comes here, with Willow." Giles nodded and moved toward the phone on the counter. Elizabeth turned to Xander, Angel, and Oz. "We'll make the exchange in the lunch room. Go make sure they have a way in."

The three boys nodded and left the room, leaving Wesley standing at the table. He looked at her sternly. "You're making a mistake."

"Maybe," Buffy agreed. "But it's done." She turned her back on Wesley dismissively and moved over to her father.

"Elizabeth…what –" Charles shook his head, completely overwhelmed. He didn't even know the first thing to ask, and his daughter stood there looking calm and confident, if slightly worried.

"Are you all right, Dad?" she asked. "The Mayor didn't hurt you?"

Charles shook his head mutely, as Giles hung up the phone and nodded at Buffy. "One hour," the librarian said.

Buffy nodded and her eyes flickered over to the book cage. Giles nodded in response and moved over to it, beckoning for Wesley to help him. Together they began to pull out a series of clubs and knives.

"I want answers, Elizabeth," Charles finally managed after observing the silent exchange. He didn't know why, but it made him intensely jealous of Mr. Giles. The other man seemed to be nice enough, but still… "And don't tell me capture the flag. Whatever you're involved in, you're talking about it costing _lives._"

His daughter sighed. "I didn't think you'd go for capture the flag," she admitted ruefully. "All right. All of this –" she waved her hand to indicate the room, the two other men, and implied that her friends were involved, "– is a Take Back the Night group."

"Take Back the Night?" Charles echoed. He'd heard of such groups – civic minded adults, usually, who would watch for anything illegal going on and make anonymous reports to the police – most often involving crimes against women, although it could also include any illegal activity that could help to prevent attacks against women. But…what his daughter was involved in…it didn't feel right. For one, the groups that he'd heard about never used weapons, and for another, they never actively involved themselves in illegal activities such as breaking and entering or burglary, both of which he'd seen his daughter do that night. No matter what some people said, Take Back the Night groups were not vigilantes. "You mean you're trying to stop crime by reporting things that you see to the police?" He shook his head. "Elizabeth, you told me that the police were ineffective."

"Um…we're not a _traditional_ group," Elizabeth attempted. "That box over there…um…the Mayor's been bringing in drugs from Mexico, and um…we didn't want them to get out onto the street." She stammered, which told him she was lying, even without needing to use his powers. It was almost impossible to lie to a telepath – even if he wasn't actively using his powers at the moment to probe her mind.

Charles shook his head, hurt that his daughter felt that she had to lie to him. "Please, don't lie to me, Elizabeth," he pleaded with her. "Just tell me."

"I –" her eyes darted to Giles, then to Wesley, making Charles' eyes narrow in suspicion. The men must have some kind of hold over his daughter – and it was going to stop.

He moved his chair past his daughter, out of the corner where he'd stayed after she'd put him back in his chair, and into the center of the room. "What is going on?" he demanded. "I don't know what the two of you have gotten Elizabeth involved in, but it ends – right now." He glared at both of them, and despite his anger was careful to keep his voice even and calm. Sounding off at them like an outraged parent – even if that was what he was – wouldn't help the situation, and he'd fought too hard for his control to lose it now, even if his daughter was involved.

"I'm afraid, Mr. Xavier, that the information you want cannot be shared," Wesley began.

Charles jumped all over him before he could continue. "I am a telepath, sir. If no one will tell me what I want to know, I will take the information – and I don't have to make it pleasant, or gentle." Ordinarily Charles would never think of making such a threat, but whatever these men had gotten his daughter involved with was serious – and he was going to find out what it was. It was his job to protect her.

Elizabeth looked over at Giles for a long moment before she nodded. "All right, Dad. I'll tell you."

"Buffy, the secrecy –" Wesley began again.

"Shut up, Wesley," Giles snapped suddenly. "Buffy has the right to tell him." He turned to Charles. "Professor, I understand your frustration with the situation, but Buffy was only trying to protect you – and herself."

"Bad things happen when I try to tell adults," Buffy agreed quietly. "When I tried to tell Mom and Hank, they threw me in an asylum and got divorced. Then Mom forgot all about it until last year – and when I told her, she kicked me out of the house." His daughter looked oddly vulnerable, completely at odds with the dominating personality she'd been showing all night. "I didn't know if I could trust you, not just to keep my secret, but not to hurt me. If someone else threw me out, or away – I couldn't take it."

Charles heart ached for what his daughter had apparently gone through. "Just tell me," he pleaded with her. "I don't think there could be anything stranger than what I deal with daily with my students."

"I doubt that," she muttered, but nodded and came to stand in front of him so she could look him in the eye. "Dad, I'm trusting you with my secret." _**Please don't hurt me.**_

The emotion in her telepathic plea was so raw and powerful that he knew she hadn't meant to send it to him. She had unconsciously broadcast to him – and given the stress of the night, it wasn't surprising.

She swallowed nervously, and took a deep breath before she spoke. "I'm a Vampire Slayer."

* * *

_City Hall…_

"Check out the bookworm."

Willow looked up with a start from the book that was open in her lap. She had managed to get out of the room where she'd been imprisoned by using magic to stake her guard with a pencil – although it had been completely unintentional – and then, in making her way to the door, been forced to duck into another room to avoid Faith and the Mayor. Unfortunately, the Professor they'd spoken of hadn't been with her, so she hoped that Buffy had managed to get him out.

Faith and the Mayor had been exiting his office, and following a spur of the moment idea, she'd ducked inside once they were gone and snooped around, looking for information about the Ascension. Partly by luck, she'd found a secret cabinet that held the Books of Ascension and had immediately sat down to read them, trying to learn everything that she could.

"Faith!" she exclaimed, watching as the Dark Slayer entered the room with a predator's lope.

"Anybody with brains, anybody who knew what was going to happen to her, would be trying to claw her way out of this place," Faith observed. "But you, you just can't stop Nancy Drewing, can you?"

Reaching out for the book, she slammed it closed, almost catching Willow's hand inside. It was only because Willow had half-expected her to do that very thing that allowed her to pull her hand out of the way in time. There had been too many times when bullies had done that to her at school.

"I guess now you "know too much." And that kinda just naturally leads to killin'," Faith finished, tossing the book aside as Willow scrambled to her feet and backed away a few steps.

"Faith, I want to tell you something," Willow started.

"Oh, yeah, please give me the speech again: 'Faith, we're still your friends, we can help you, it's not too late'."

"It's way too late," Willow corrected her, which actually stopped Faith in her tracks, not having expected that response. "It didn't have to be this way, but you made your choice. I know you've had a tough life. I know some people think you've had a lot of bad breaks, and that you've hardened your heart to protect yourself from the pain."

Faith's face actually softened as she listened to Willow. There was real pain in her dark eyes, which told Willow that she was right about that much at least.

"Well, boo-hoo. Poor you," Willow attacked suddenly. "You had a lot more in your life than some people. You had friends like Buffy. Now you've got no one. And you were a slayer! One of the Chosen. Now you're nothing. Just a selfish, worthless, waste."

There was a beat as Faith absorbed that. The next thing Willow knew, Faith's fist had impacted her face. She blinked, dazed, as she stumbled, holding her throbbing nose, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"You try to hurt me, I try to hurt you. I'm just a little more efficient."

"And here I thought you just didn't have a comeback," Willow retorted through the tears that thickened her voice.

"You're begging for some deep pain," Faith hissed, moving closer.

"I'm not afraid of you," Willow snapped, standing up straight and holding her ground as Faith moved closer. She wanted to rethink that statement when Faith suddenly pulled out her knife.

"Let's see what we can do about that."

* * *

_Downtown Sunnydale…same time…_

"How much farther, Storm?" Scott asked as they walked down the almost deserted streets. He didn't like this – it was too quiet.

Storm paused and looked around, matching up landmarks with what she remembered from her trip out here two weeks ago. "Three more blocks, and then we turn…left, onto Revello Drive, and then we have four more blocks." She looked around again, and then waved them on.

Scott sighed. He wished they knew more about what was going on. Why wouldn't the Professor's daughter have wanted them to come out to find him? Was she involved somehow? Or did she know who was?

And there was something about this town…he couldn't put a finger on what was making him so uneasy. On the surface, Sunnydale appeared to be just like Bayville – a small, quiet town. But it was Saturday night and it was too quiet. Even though it was late, it was still only ten-thirty or so. Teens and young adults should be out on dates, people should have been driving to the movies, or on their way to clubs…police should be patrolling…

Instead, the streets were almost deserted. Scott's group was the only actual group he'd seen since they arrived. He'd seen a few individuals walking, but they hadn't stopped to talk, and they'd been hurrying on as if there was some reason that they shouldn't be on the street. The quiet was eerie and uncomfortable.

Logan sniffed the air. "I don't like this. Something's wrong with this place. It's too quiet."

Scott glanced around. If Logan was sensing it too... "Do you think it has something to do with what happened to the Professor?"

"Something to make the whole town go quiet?" Logan shook his head. "It would have to be –" he paused and held up his hand, signaling the team to stop. He sniffed again, his whole body alert and wary.

"Logan?" Storm whispered. "What is it?"

Another sniff. "The Prof. I've got his scent."

The X-Men let out a collective sigh of relief. Waiting for Logan to lead the way. After a moment, the half-feral mutant continued to lead them down the main road.

"Chuck wasn't alone," Logan continued after a moment. "There was a female with him. Similar base scent…has to be his daughter. And a man – not the Prof…but there's something odd about it – it's almost a dead smell."

Scott exchanged puzzled looks with the rest of the team. Why would a man have a dead smell clinging to him? It was yet another mystery that they would have to try and solve.

"Logan, can you tell if the Professor was hurt?" Storm asked.

"No, he's not hurt," Wolverine said immediately. "But he had some major adrenaline going for him – and these scents are recent – less than an hour old."

"Lead the way," Scott spoke for the rest of the team.

_Sunnydale High Library…_

* * *

"_I'm a Vampire Slayer."_

The words – which made no sense – kept repeating in Charles' head after his daughter spoke them. All he could do was stare at her wordlessly and wonder if she had really said them.

For her part, Buffy watched him closely, her hands absently clenching and unclenching in a nervous gesture. She wondered what he would say. Would he react like Hank and Joyce and try to throw her into an asylum again, or just dismiss her and want no part of her life?

Charles blinked as he heard his daughter's worries in his head. Because of her nerves and fear, she was unconsciously broadcasting her thoughts, and she was doing so loudly enough that he was able to pick up on them through his shields. The raw, powerful emotion that he felt behind the sending was enough to shake him out of his shock.

Turning on the other two men, he didn't hesitate to give them a piece of his mind. "I don't know what this is all about or how you roped Elizabeth into believing it, but it has to stop!" You've got her convinced that government authorities can't be trusted, she's _stealing_, and who knows what else! I –"

"Dad, stop!" Elizabeth stepped back in front of him, shielding Giles and Wesley from his wrath. "This isn't Giles or Wesley's fault. It was going on for over a year before I met them."

Charles turned to her and took in the serious look on her face. "Elizabeth, what is going on?" He had a feeling that this was going to become his most common question when dealing with his daughter, but he had to know.

Buffy sighed. She really hadn't wanted to tell him all of this, but she was committed now. She wasn't going to tell him _everything_ of course – he didn't need to know about Angel being a vampire, or about her death at the Master's hands, or about the expected lifespan of a Slayer.

But maybe… "Giles, can you - ?"

Giles nodded and stepped over to her, gently resting a hand on her shoulder in a gesture of affection. "Of course, dear girl." After a moment, he looked over at Charles. "It is quite simple, Professor. For thousands of years, since the beginning of time, demons and vampires have walked the earth. As the race of men began to come into our own, the number of demons and vampires were too great a threat and there were too many of them to hope to combat. So the higher Powers chose a young girl and gave her the strength and skill she would need to fight back. Into every generation there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the vampire, the demons, and the forces of darkness – to hunt them down and stop the swell of their numbers. She is the Slayer."

Charles only stared at him wordlessly. He couldn't make a coherent thought come out of his mouth. _First magic and witchcraft, now vampires and demons? Has this entire town gone mad? _he wondered.

"Dad I know it's hard to believe," Buffy said quietly. "It was hard for me to believe too. If I'd had a choice, I wouldn't have told you about this at all – or I'd have tried to break it to you slowly – but the Mayor forced my hand."

"Elizabeth – I –" was all he could manage. How could she be so calm about this?

"Look, Dad," she continued. "I'll tell you everything I can as soon as I can." She knelt down in front of him to put them at eye level. "But you must know by now that the Mayor is seriously evil – and I can't leave Willow with him and Faith. Let me deal with this, and then you and Giles and I will sit down and talk. I promise."

Charles looked closely at her – saw the maturity, the leadership, and the sincerity in her eyes. Also the fear – for her friend? Or for what he would do after she told him the rest of her secret? He still didn't understand, didn't know if he could accept it – his scientific education and reluctance to believe in the mystical and mythical was warring with his desire to convince her that she could trust him. But that trust he wanted to build with her – maybe it could begin by first giving his trust to her.

"All right, Elizabeth. I'll wait – but I do want that explanation."

She nodded. "You'll get it," she promised again as her friends re-entered the room. "Dad, will you please stay here while we do this? I don't know what the Mayor wanted with you, but I can't protect you and Willow at the same time if something goes wrong."

It went against his instincts – both as a teacher and as a father – to think that his child needed to protect him. After a moment, however, he nodded. "All right." Of course, he would stay in the library – physically. His astral form, however, would allow him to view everything, and perhaps he could start to put some more pieces of the puzzle that was his daughter together.

"Buffy," Angel said quietly. "We need to get into position before the Mayor gets here. I don't trust him not to show up early, and if we're not there…" The tall, dark-haired young man walked over to the table and picked up the ornate box.

"Right," Buffy agreed. "Load up, guys, and let's move out."

All five men moved over to the arrangement of weapons that Giles and Wesley had laid out. They all selected some weapons and headed towards the doors. Charles watched them go, hating that fact that he was confined to the sidelines. But Elizabeth was right. In a physical fight, he'd be the next thing to helpless. But t wasn't easy to stand aside and watch her go off into danger – even though they'd only known each other for a few days.

"Be safe, Elizabeth," he said softly, mostly to himself. To his surprise, she turned and offered him a reassuring smile from where she was about to exit the library.

"Always am."

**Don't forget to review!**


	37. Chapter 36: Prisoner Exchange

_******Author's Note: Hey everyone! I'm sorry about how long this chapter took. The last couple of weeks have been a pain. I've been so busy with school winding down, but I promise this story has never been far from my thoughts. I hope you enjoy this chapter, because the X-Men and the Scoobies are about to collide!**  
_

_**Chapter Thirty-Six: Prisoner Exchange**_

"_**Plans never survive the first engagement with the enemy."**_

_**-Mercedes Lackey, author**_

Oz finished securing the side doors with a piece of wood – a _sharp_ piece of wood – that he'd wedged between the bar handles and the center frame of the door. It would keep the doors closed, and, in an emergency, could serve as an impromptu stake.

Buffy looked around the room, taking in the positions of the others. Giles and Wesley were in the corner by the windows – or to be more accurate, _Giles_ was standing there, while Wesley was cowering in the corner behind him. Xander and Oz were going to be behind her and to her right, while Angel was going to be right beside her to make the exchange.

Buffy spared a quick thought for her father, waiting in the library. She still didn't know why the Mayor had wanted him in the first place, and that was something that the two of them would have to discuss later, after she'd talked to him about her Calling and helped him to understand.

In an ideal world, as she'd told him earlier, she'd probably never have told him the truth. The benefits of him knowing didn't outweigh the negatives as far as she was concerned, but the Mayor had forced her hand by abducting him. Of course, that might have changed as they got to know each other better, but where their relationship stood now, she had not liked the idea. But now he knew some of it, and she would have to tell him the rest and then deal with the fallout.

In the meantime, she needed to worry about getting Willow back, not about what she was going to tell her father later. She could only hope that, whatever the Mayor had wanted him for, he wouldn't think to send some of his vampires through the school looking for her father. She could have left someone with him as protection, but although she trusted anyone in the room with her – except for Wesley – to protect her father, she also knew that none of them would be willing to stay with him as long as Willow was in danger.

Oz gave the doors a final shake. "This place is completely locked down, except for the front," the werewolf said as he moved back to where Xander was waiting and picked up a club and a cross.

"Yeah, it really gives me that comforting 'trapped' feeling," Xander observed.

"One way in, one way out," Buffy replied. "I don't want them to flank us, and I want to see them coming."

Abruptly, the lights suddenly went out.

"I guess they're shy," Xander quipped. "Can anyone see anything?"

"I can see all right," Angel said.

Buffy didn't doubt that. Angel's eyes were designed for the night, and his night-vision was extraordinary. Hers was almost as good, but the others would have been in some difficulty if it wasn't for the moonlight that was shining in weakly through the windows on Giles' left. "So can I."

"I'm glad someone can," Wesley muttered from his corner, although Buffy ignored him.

_**Elizabeth, you shouldn't back yourself into a corner. **_Her father's voice, filled with worry, suddenly sounded in her head.

_**I don't have a choice, Dad. This has to be done,**_ she thought back at him wondering if he could hear her, and consciously trying to use her new powers to make herself heard.

_**There's always another choice,**_ he told her just before he appeared, standing, in front of her. She almost jumped in surprise, would have if she hadn't realized that no one else reacted to it. As she realized that, she wondered if she was the only person who could see him.

_**You are,**_ he confirmed. _**I can choose who can see my astral form most of the time. A more powerful telepath than I might be able to see me against my will, but since I've never encountered a telepath of that strength, you should be the only person who can see me.**_

_**Should be?**_ she thought back at him, relieved that she seemed to be doing this telepathy thing right, since she was able to hear and speak to him, without picking up on the thoughts of any of the others around her.

_**I'm finding that many things that I thought I understood have been altered lately, **_he replied. _**I will have to rethink many of the things that I had taken as absolute – including the things that you have told me already.**_

Before she could respond, her sharp hearing picked up the sound of footsteps in the hallway, and she could see moving shadows that had to be the Mayor and his posse. Her father turned as well, and moved to stand beside her. But he couldn't have heard them coming, could he?

_**I can sense the minds of your friend Willow and the Mayor's assistant Faith,**_ he told her.

"Handy power," she commented out loud.

"Buffy?" Giles asked. "What are you talking about?"

Buffy blinked. "Huh?"

Before Giles could respond, however, the doors were shoved open and two of the Mayor's vampires entered – the same two vampires that Angel and Buffy had fought when they were trying to get control of the box.

Buffy shook her head. "Oh too bad. I thought for sure that the Mayor would have dusted the two of you after we stole this out from under your noses."

The vampires snarled in anger, but restrained themselves from leaping at her, although they both quite clearly wanted to. After a moment, they moved over to the side to stand across from Giles and Wesley. Almost immediately, Faith and Willow entered, with Faith holding a knife to Willow's throat.

Willow's nose and face was swollen, and one of her eyes was starting to blacken. It was apparent that she'd been hit at least once, most likely by Faith. Oz took a half-step forward as the Mayor entered, but Buffy held up her hand and he stopped. They stood there, an odd tableau, each waiting for the other to make the first move.

* * *

_Outside…_

"The high school?" Evan asked. His suspicions were higher than ever. Why would the Professor be visiting the high school in the middle of the night? Did he have another group – another team – out here that he was training? Was that why he had been so eager to hurry off to California?

He didn't have any proof, yet the facts certainly seemed to fit. _The Professor married, and he and his wife had a daughter – that's confirmed. But how could a telepath as powerful as he is not be able to find his daughter if she really was abducted? He could have found a way to fake her disappearance, raised her in secret, and then sent her out to California to start recruiting and training a West Coast team. That would explain why we've never found anyone further west than Illinois or Mississippi – if his daughter is locating and training the mutants out in this area…_

"The high school," Logan confirmed. "He's somewhere inside, unless there's another door on the other side of the building that they used to exit in a different direction."

"Jean?" Storm asked.

"On it," the young telepath replied. Closing her eyes again, she lowered her shields and reached out in search of their mentor. _**Professor? Can you hear me?**_

* * *

Charles watched as the Mayor entered the room. There was a friendly confidence about him that Charles knew had to be fake. _No one_ could be that cheerful all the time, especially not when he'd just had something stolen from him.

As if following a silent cue, Elizabeth took a step forward at the same time as the Mayor. They stared at each other, waging a silent battle of wills for a moment. Charles watched, fascinated by the change that had come over his daughter – fascinated, and yet uncertain. It was obvious that Elizabeth was a natural leader, who knew how and when to take charge and had the ability to make split second decisions. It was this same attitude and ability that he had seen in Scott, and was trying to cultivate in the young man – and to an extent in the rest of his students.

If mutants and humans were ever to live in peace and harmony, the mutants would need to have confidence and strength to stand up through what would likely be hard times when their powers were revealed to the populace at large. He was pleased with the progress that they were making, but they had yet to be truly challenged in that way, so it remained to be seen how they would react when the truth finally came out.

But that wasn't important. What he found fascinating was the way that Elizabeth seemed able to assume or set aside her leadership skills at will. He'd seen her listening and acting on the things that Mr. Giles had told her, but then he'd also see her giving him orders and watching them obeyed. She also seemed to have the ability to rally other people to her side, and it had to have something to do with the loyalty that she showed her friends.

"Well, this is exciting, isn't it? Clandestine meeting by dark of night, exchange of prisoners…I just, I feel like we should all be wearing trench coats," the Mayor observed cheerfully.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Did we come here to do this, or so you could listen to yourself talk?" She leveled a steady look at Wilkins that was just a hair shy of being a glare. "Let her go."

The Mayor's smile faded a little. "No. Not until the box is in my hands." He looked her up and down, assessing her. "So you're the little girl who's been causing me all this trouble." He looked past her at Angel. "She's pretty, Angel. Little skinny…still don't understand why it couldn't work out with you and my Faith. Guess you kinda just have a strange taste in women."

"Yeah, well what can I say? I like 'em sane," Angel commented from where he stood just behind Buffy.

Faith's face twisted into a scowl and she pulled the knife closer to Willow's throat. Willow's eyes were wide with fear, but she was remaining calm, something that Charles found very interesting. Most girls, in her position, would have been crying, or shaking, but Willow was passive, not trying to resist what Faith was doing.

"Angel, chill," Oz whispered tensely.

"See, now I find that interesting, considering what I know about your activities before you came to America," Wilkins commented. "There was Darla, and Drusilla, right? Darla could be considered sane, I suppose, but I don't think anyone could argue that Drusilla was certifiably insane."

Charles wondered who Darla and Drusilla were – and what Angel's relationship to them had been. Given that Elizabeth had admitted that they were dating, and the affection that the young man seemed to show towards her, it made him wonder if he had treated these other, unknown girls the same way.

"I don't see how that's any of your business," Angel said calmly.

Wilkins shook his head for a moment before he looked back at Buffy. "Well, I wish you kids the best, I really do. But if you don't mind a bit of fatherly advice…"

"Actually, I do," Buffy replied coldly. "I have a father, and if there's any advice I need that he can't give me, I have Giles."

His daughter's words filled him with a warm feeling. Although their relationship was still on somewhat unsteady ground, the fact that she was willing to not only acknowledge him as her father, but apparently willing to turn to him for advice was comforting – it meant that their relationship had a chance to flourish and grow healthy and strong.

"And I never got along with my father," Angel added. "I hated fatherly advice from him right up until the day he died."

"An event that I believe you had a rather large part in?" the Mayor asked, a small smile of satisfaction on his face.

The idea that Angel – his daughter's boyfriend – might have had something to do with his father's death, as the Mayor had not-so-subtly implied, was enough to send a cold chill down Charles' back, completely erasing the warmer feelings that he'd had only moments ago. Was his daughter dating a murderer?

"What happened between my father and I is also none of your business."

The Mayor shook his head again. "If that's the way you feel about it, fine. But, just so you know, I, well gosh; I don't see much of a future for you two. I don't see a lasting relationship, and not just because I plan to kill the both of you. You have a bumpy road ahead."

_He's planning to kill Elizabeth and Angel? And he just admitted it in front of a room full of witnesses? Is the man absolutely insane? _Charles wondered to himself.

_**Professor? Can you hear me? **_Jean's voice filled his mind suddenly, drawing his attention away from his daughter.

It took only a moment to pinpoint her thoughts, and they were much closer than he would have expected. _**Jean?**_

_**Professor! You're all right! We've been worried about you. We're outside the high school**_, Jean's "voice" was indeed worried and anxious, but there was also genuine relief and for a moment Charles regretted putting his X-Men through the fear and the worry they'd no doubt experienced when they'd received his message. But it had been the only way to get word to them that he was in trouble.

_**I'm fine, Jean, but I do need your help**_, he replied. Turning his focus away from his daughter, he sent his astral form to where his X-Men were waiting outside the school. The entire team was waiting outside, which surprised him. It was true that they were stronger together, but he wondered how Storm had been able to convince Logan to bring the students along. He would have expected Wolverine to rush off alone to try to help him, rather than have to lead the students around.

"Professor!" they called as he allowed his astral form to appear in front of them, making himself visible to all of them where he hadn't when he had been with his daughter. Like Jean, the relief in their voices was obvious. Jean broke off her telepathic contact with him and opened her eyes as he looked his X-Men over.

_**X-Men, I need you inside, in the cafeteria. My daughter is in there trying to save the life of one of her friends. I'll let her know you're coming so that she's ready.**_

"Whaddya need us to do, Chuck?" Logan asked.

_**When you're almost there, I'll use my powers to take over the mind of the girl holding Willow hostage, which should allow her to get free. I need you to try to secure everyone in the room so we can contact the proper authorities, and also help Elizabeth retain control of a large, ornate box.**_

"Understood, Professor," Storm replied for the team.

_**Also, try not to use your powers. I know it will be hard, but your presence alone should be enough to tip the situation in Elizabeth's favor. I believe this problem can be resolved with strength of numbers rather than a show of force.**_

As the students nodded in understanding, Charles turned to Jean. _**Use your telepathy and home in on my astral projection. I'm going back to Elizabeth.**_

"Yes, Professor," the girl replied.

"All right, X-Men, let's go," Storm ordered calmly.

* * *

When her father's shade abruptly vanished, Buffy had to swallow back a cry. If the Mayor somehow _didn't_ know that Dr. Xavier was her father, or that they were both telepaths, she couldn't reveal it to them. She couldn't give him another weapon to use against her – but she also could only hope that her father hadn't been taken by the Mayor's vamps again. If something was wrong, he'd tell her – she hoped.

"I don't think we need to talk about this," she replied to the Mayor's comment about her and Angel's relationship. She looked past Wilkins at Willow and met her friend's gaze, trying to reassure her that everything would be all right. Willow's eyes, though frightened, brightened a little and some of the fear eased. Willow trusted them to get her out safely, and that was what Buffy was going to do.

"You kids, you don't like to think about the future, don't like to plan." Wilkins' voice sounded genuinely regretful before it became more serious. "But unless you want Faith to gut your friend like a sea bass right here, you'll show a little respect for your elders."

Angel scoffed. "You're not my elder. I've got a lot of years on you."

"And that's just one of the things you're going to have to deal with. You're immortal – she's not. It's not easy. I married my Edna Mae in aught three and I was with her right until the end. Not a pretty scene. Wrinkled and senile and cursing me for my youth. It wasn't our happiest time."

Buffy didn't want to listen anymore. The Mayor was making sense, and he was striking too close to home. She knew that Angel already had doubts about their relationship and why he'd been brought back from Acathla's hell, given what had happened the last time they had gotten close. They'd had to be so careful this last year to keep their passions in check, and it had seemed to her that at times he was pulling away slightly.

"Who I date is my business, and what does it matter to you, if you're just going to kill us anyway?" she asked calmly, to keep him from trying to dig deeper into Angel's guilt and conscience. "If you want the box, you'll drop the subject."

The Mayor met her eyes again and allowed her determination to fill her soul, so he could see that she wasn't backing down and wasn't rattled by him. His eyes were cold, and soulless, despite the friendly, almost paternal smile on his face. She didn't know what he saw in her eyes, but whatever it was made his lips curl up into a slightly larger smile.

"Make the trade," he finally said.

_**Elizabeth, my students are here**_, her father's shade reappeared beside her again, quite unexpectedly. _**They're coming to try and help you settle this.**_

She couldn't let anyone else get pulled into this mess! Dropping her mental shields slightly, she called out to him, keeping her face impassive. _**No, dad, it's under control. Keep them out.**_

_**I want to help you, Elizabeth.**_

_**I know, but you have to trust that I know what I'm doing right now. Call your students off!**_ she sent to him, firmly.

Completely unaware of the communication going on between Buffy and her father, Angel had picked up the box and moved towards the middle of the room as Faith pushed Willow forward. They met halfway between the two groups and stood there for a moment. Faith held Willow tightly for several seconds while she glared at Buffy and Angel, before she moved the knife and sheathed it, shoving Willow towards Buffy. Buffy reached out and caught her friend, steadying her before gently pushing her to the back and towards Oz. Angel held the box out to Faith as soon as Willow was out of the way.

The rogue Slayer took it and sent one more glare at the two of them as they all stepped back to their respective sides.

"Well, that went as smoothly as could be –" the Mayor began before the doors slammed open to admit – not her father's students – but Principal Snyder and three armed security guards. One of the guards moved over to the side door, removed Oz's wedge and locked the door with a set of keys, while a second guard moved to the doors behind the Mayor and did the same thing. The third guard hovered at Snyder's shoulder as he strode into the room.

The Mayor quickly backed into the shadows, unnoticed as Snyder's eyes swept the room, a gleeful smile coming over her face as he realized that his "problem children" were all present.

Before anyone could say anything, the Professor's shade vanished again, and Buffy hoped that he had gone to stop his students. Things were getting out of hand, and the last thing she needed was a group of strangers barging in and making a tense situation worse.

"Nobody moves. I knew you kids were up to something," Snyder said triumphantly.

"Snyder, get out of here," Buffy ordered him.

"You're not giving orders, young lady," the little troll replied, walking up and taking the box from Faith and handing it to the guard that was standing behind him. "I suppose you're going to try to tell me that I won't find drugs in this box?"

Faith pulled out her knife, moving like she was going to strike Snyder with it, but Buffy stepped forward slightly, putting herself in range to jump between the Principal and Faith if necessary. Although she had no love for Snyder, the man was still an innocent and she was still obligated to protect him, despite their mutual animosity. "Wait," she held up her hand, stopping Faith from striking.

"Boss?" Faith asked, uncertain what to do.

"Principal Snyder, I think we have a problem," the Mayor stepped forward again.

"Mr. Mayor! I….I had no idea you were – I'm terribly sorry," Snyder stammered.

"No, no. It's I who should apologize, coming here at night. What you must think. You see, I just needed to –" he broke off as he noticed the guard opening the box. "Oh. Don't do that."

A bad feeling went through Buffy as she turned with the others to look at the guard who was peering into the box. There was a moment of absolute silence, like the calm before a storm, before something black and spidery looking leaped out of the box and attached itself to the guard's face. He dropped the box, screaming, as he tried to pull it off.

_**Elizabeth! **_Her father's cry pierced her mind as the guard's scream went on. _**Help is coming!**_

_**No! Keep them out!**_ she cried back. _**It's not safe!**_

* * *

The X-Men moved through the corridors of the school, on alert. Jean was guiding them by following the mental emanations that the Professor's astral form put out. By using his astral form near his daughter, it made an incredibly effective homing beacon for another telepath to follow. Of course, it only worked if that telepath was aware of the Professor's mental pattern. But Jean and the Professor already had a strong bond of mentor and student, and they knew each other's mental patterns as well as anything, which made it easy for her to find him if he was within her sensing range.

They were all determined to do as the Professor asked and _not_ use their powers to help, although it would be an effort, although Storm wondered why Charles had asked them not to. She had noticed that it was getting harder and harder to understand Charles' motivations and actions of late – ever since he'd found his daughter, as it happened. Usually, the Professor was warm and open with them, but he'd become more secretive and obscure with information in the recent past – something that she would need to address with him. The other students were confused and frustrated, and Storm worried that it would hurt the team dynamics and trust if Charles continued in the pattern he'd begun. It wasn't a problem yet, but it could easily become one.

_**There's a problem, X-Men. Stop here for a minute,**_ the Professor's astral form flashed into view in front of them. They quickly obeyed, gathering around the insubstantial form, waiting for further instructions.

"Professor, what is going on?" Scott asked.

_**I don't know all the details yet, Scott, but I plan to find out soon. The only thing I do know is that Elizabeth has been pulled or coerced into a huge conspiracy of some kind – a dangerous one. **_Charles' mental voice was stubbornly determined. _**Up until know there has been a trust issue between she and I – there still is – but events have forced my daughter to reveal some of the situation to me sooner than she would have liked.**_

"Who took ya hostage, Chuck?" Wolverine asked.

_**The Mayor, Richard Wilkins. He's in there with Elizabeth right now. Whatever the reason that he wanted me – something to do with a genetics project – it has something to do with what my daughter is involved in.**_

Wolverine growled softly. "I'll take him apart to get answers for ya, Charles."

_**That's not necessary, Logan. Not yet. I – **_A scream interrupted what Charles was saying. It wasn't anything like what they heard in the movies, one of those piercing, fake-sounding shrieks made by the female characters. No, this was a low, horrible cry of fear, surprise, and pain, and it froze all of them as it echoed through the halls, muffled by the walls, but still clearly reaching their ears.

_**Elizabeth! Go, X-Men, go!**_ Charles ordered them.

"Move out, X-Men!" Scott called. "Be ready!" They raced down the halls together, side-by-side. Only the fact that Charles had ordered them not to use their powers – and had not revoked that order – kept Kitty from rushing ahead, using her phasing power to pass through the walls, or Kurt from teleporting ahead.

"Jean, can you pinpoint that scream?" Scott asked.

Jean nodded and closed her eyes for a moment to focus her powers, trusting the other X-Men to keep her from running into any obstacle that might be in her path. Her face was filled with intense concentration as she searched for the path that they needed, before she also screamed in pain and shock.

"Jean!" the entire team cried as one, just before the young telepath collapsed. Kurt teleported quickly and caught her, lowering her to the floor as they all skidded to a stop.

Storm and Scott both knelt down beside her. "Jean, what was it? Are you all right?" Scott asked.

The redhead opened her eyes and moaned softly. Her expression was dazed and pain-filled, but she somehow managed to focus on them. "Someone's dying, Scott…it – it was so…horrible. I – I felt them die."

"Rogue, stay here with Jean," Logan snapped, his claws extending from his hands with a _snickt_. "The rest of you, with me."

As Rogue knelt down beside the still dazed telepath, Logan led the rest of the team down the hallway. _**Straight ahead, then turn left,**_ the Professor's voice said to them. _**When you get to the stairs go down, cross the concourse, and it's the double doors on your right.**_

* * *

_Cafeteria…_

Everyone froze as the guard collapsed to the floor, the spider-thing still on his face for a moment, before it scurried off into the shadows. The guard's face was missing, revealing bloody, ravaged muscle and bone. There was no doubt that he was very dead, and no one volunteered to go over and confirm it.

"Oh god," Wesley whispered.

"Where did it go?" Xander asked, hefting his club a little bit and looking all around the room at the level of the floor.

"Get that door open," Snyder ordered the other guards. The one closest to the door behind the Mayor fumbled for his keys, but dropped them in his panic.

"No!" Giles snapped. "We can't let that thing out of here."

Pounding footsteps came from outside the room, drawing Snyder's attention again to the doors. "Who's out there?" he called.

_**Dad, please call your students off! If they open those doors, other people, possibly them, will die!**_ Buffy pleaded with her father, only to get no response from him. Was she doing something wrong this time, or was he just ignoring her? Either way, she didn't have time to worry about it. She had to find and kill that demon-spider thing.

"I still want to know where it went," Xander commented.

"Listen," Buffy said, her eyes rising to look at the ceiling, where the moonlight did not penetrate the shadows. Everyone fell silent and looked up, listening to the skittering noises the creature was making. If the creature was up there, it couldn't be seen.

Someone pounded on the doors, rattling them hard enough that Buffy thought they'd break. "Stay out!" she called. "It's not safe!"

Whoever was pounding on the doors stopped, for the moment at least. Then a gruff, growling voice called in, "Is everyone all right?"

"Get us out!" Snyder called suddenly, before Buffy could answer.

"No!" she cried, countering Snyder's command. "Keep those doors closed! We can't let it escape!"

The Mayor looked up at a sudden scuttling noise overhead – and his face disappeared beneath the spider creature as it dropped down on him. He yelled out in surprise and fell backward, across one of the tables.

"Boss!" Faith lunged forward, grabbed the creature, and with all her strength ripped it off the Mayor's face, throwing it to the ground. It immediately skittered into the corner where Giles and Wesley were standing and with a cry, both men scrambled onto the table.

* * *

When the scream rang out through the halls of the school, Charles pulled his astral form back and merged with his physical body again. Even as he moved towards the double doors of the library, he was blinking back the momentary disorientation that came with the reintegration of his astral form with his body. No matter what Elizabeth wished, he was not going to sit idly back while she was in danger and watch her die. He had been willing to sit back and stay out of it while it was a simple hostage exchange, but now that there had been a death – just like Jean, he'd sensed the death of the security guard, but he had enough control to not let the sensation overwhelm him – he simply couldn't remain passive.

His astral projection had given him perfect directions on how to get to the cafeteria from the library and he steered his chair there as quickly as he possibly could, although the fairly short journey was still too long for his nerves.

He reached the double doors of the cafeteria, arriving moments after the X-Men, minus Rogue and Jean. Logan and Storm were standing next to the door, with the rest of the team ranged behind them. Logan was tugging on the doors somewhat fruitlessly, but hadn't made an effort to actually open them, as Charles knew he could easily do with his claws.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"We've got conflicting requests, Charles," Storm told him; "someone in there wants us to open the doors, but there's someone else, a girl, who told us to stay out."

"The girl is probably Elizabeth," Charles said, before he cast his mind out to his daughter again. For all of her insistence that it was too dangerous for his students to go it, she was remarkably calm, if alert. _**Elizabeth, we're outside. My students will get you out.**_

_**How many times do I have to tell you 'no'? **_she demanded. _**We're not trapped, we can get out whenever we want, but if we let this thing out of here, people **__will __**die – possibly your students. We've got it trapped in here, and we can kill it as soon as we find it. Once it's dead, we'll open the doors.**_

_**How many more people are going to die before you do? **_Charles shot back. _**My students have powers that could help you.**_

_**No!**_ she repeated. _**Keep them out of here, and out of sight when we open the doors. They don't need to get involved in all of this. I –**_her mental sending abruptly cut off as her shields slammed back into place.

_**Elizabeth! Elizabeth, answer me!**_ Charles called, worry spiking through him. Should he send his X-Men in? Kitty and Kurt could get the entire group out safely in a matter of seconds. Or should he wait like his daughter wanted?

"Professor? What's the plan?" Scott asked, alert and tense, waiting for a signal.

"I don't know, Scott," Charles finally said. "Elizabeth is insisting that she can handle the situation, and I don't know what she's trying to fight. She keeps saying 'if it escapes'…"

"It's evil, Professor," Jean's voice said.

The team turned around to see the young telepath approaching, still somewhat shaken and dazed, half-supported by Rogue. Jean's eyes were haunted, and Charles knew that she must have been nearly overwhelmed by the impressions of the guard who had died inside – experiencing death, mind-to-mind was never pleasant, or easy, and that was especially true when the death was sudden, painful, and violent.

"What do you mean, Red?" Logan asked, his rough voice somewhat gentler than usual.

"Whatever is in that room is evil. I touched its mind accidentally. There was nothing compassionate or good about it. It was destructive, uncaring, and _hungry_. I've never felt anything like it. I-" she paused for a moment, before continuing, "I would almost be willing to say that whatever it is, it's not _human_."

* * *

The Mayor slowly sat up after Faith ripped the demon-spider off of his face. There were nasty gashes on his cheeks and both sides of his forehead where the spider had started to attack him, but Faith had acted quickly enough that the spider hadn't had a chance to do more damage – and even as they watched, the gashes slowly closed, the flesh regenerating at a hundred times faster than nature could manage.

They were all staring at the Mayor in shock, but Principal Snyder's eyes were just about bugging out of his head. He took a slow step backwards, away from the Mayor, and his mouth opened and closed soundlessly, making him look almost exactly like a fish.

Skittering noises drew everyone's attention back to the shadowed corners of the room as they looked for the spider. It was pitch black, and the spider blended in perfectly. Buffy wondered absently if that was one of the creature's abilities, to disappear into the shadows so that it could attack its unsuspecting prey and take it completely by surprise.

The Mayor was looking across the room, over at the dead guard and the box, which was partly open. "I wouldn't leave that open if I were you…"

Buffy looked over at the box and ran forward, diving at the box and slamming it shut, just in time as another spider had been about to emerge from the box. The lid slammed down so abruptly and with such force that she severed two of the creature's legs before it was trapped back in the box. There was a sound above her and she started to look up, just as the spider dropped down on her, landing on her back and shoulders, which were fortunately protected by her leather jacket.

Buffy didn't even hesitate, or stop to think. She flung herself backward, crushing the creature beneath her, and rolling slightly to make sure that it hadn't gotten away. She could hear the sound of the spider's outer skin being crushed and broken, and could feel something slippery and slimy beneath her.

"Oh, great, another jacket probably ruined," she moaned as Angel hurried over to her and helped her to her feet, kicking what remained of the spider away.

"Buffy, I hardly think this is the time to be worrying about your wardrobe," Giles commented, still holding his club ready to strike.

"Not complaining, just making an observation," Buffy replied before more skittering noises caught her attention. She listened and looked around. "There's at least one more in here."

They all looked around the room carefully. The noise was growing louder, and then suddenly, Faith's head whipped around to stare at Wesley. Buffy looked where she was looking and saw the spider creature crawling up the wall behind the younger Watcher.

"Wesley, behind you!" Buffy called, just as Faith pulled the arm holding her knife back in preparation to throw it.

Wesley saw what the dark Slayer was doing and screamed. "No!" He ducked, just as the knife went sailing over his head and impacted the wall – killing and pinning the spider-demon to it – without touching him.

The faint tingling of her Slayer-senses ebbed and Buffy knew that they'd gotten all of them this time. She lowered the shields that she had raised so quickly when the spider dropped down on the Mayor and called out to her father. _**Dad, we've got it under control. We're coming out in a minute. Take your students back to the library, and I'll meet you there.**_

_**Not until I see that you're all right.**_

_**Please, just do as I ask, Dad. I promise, I'm all right, no one else is hurt. We'll be there in just a few minutes.**_

She sensed reluctance from her father, but finally, acceptance. _**Fine, but I'm staying in contact with you until you get there.**_

_**That's fine, I just don't want to have to explain all of their presences, and there are two vampires in here that I don't want to be tempted by your students.**_

The Mayor hurried forward and picked up the box as the guard fumbled for his keys, finally locating the right one. He held the box out, ready to open it.

"Is that all of them?" Oz asked.

"Uh, not really," the Mayor replied. "You see, there's about, uh, fifty…billion of these happy little critters in here. Would you like to see?"

The guard unlocked the door and shoved it open, and the Mayor's two vampires rushed out, grabbing the man and dragging him off. Buffy wanted to go after them, but she couldn't, not as long as the Mayor and Faith were here. She felt…sad, for the guard, but there was no way she could save him now. She'd accepted a long time ago that even with her best efforts, she couldn't save everyone. People died every night in Sunnydale from the vampires and demons – all she could do was try to limit the number of people who did.

Buffy started to take a step towards Wilkins, but he opened the box slightly, a clear threat that he would release more of the spiders if she didn't back off. "Raise your hand if you're invulnerable." He kept his eyes on her, but spoke to Faith. "Faith, let's go."

Faith looked back at the wall where her knife was still stuck in the wall. She obviously wanted to go and get it, but Giles and Wesley were both standing between her and it.

"Faith!"

The rogue Slayer looked back at the Mayor, then at Buffy and her friends and scowled before she followed the Mayor out of the room.

Buffy waited until the sound of the other Slayer's boots had faded, before she looked over at Snyder, who was still standing there with his eyes bugging out. He was holding a chair up in front of him like lion-tamers in a circus would, as a shield. "Snyder, you alive in there?"

The principal slowly turned to look at her. "You…all of you…why couldn't you be dealing drugs like normal people?" He turned away and started out of the cafeteria, still holding the chair like a shield and peering into all the shadows before he moved.

Willow watched him go, concern crossing her face. "I think we broke him."

"Forgive me if that doesn't disappoint me," Xander observed. "I'm petty that way."

Buffy suppressed a smile at her friend's sense of humor and walked over to where Wesley was still standing on the table. She climbed up as he stepped out of her way, reaching up and pulling the knife out of the wall as the spider carcass dropped to the ground. Giles would probably want to collect the carcasses later and study them, to see if there was anything about them that would give them some more information about the Ascension, but for now, she could care less.

"Well, that went swimmingly," Wesley said, his tone bitter.

Buffy looked over at Willow, who was being hugged by Oz. "We did all right." She sighed. "Come on guys, let's go back to the library. My dad's waiting there, and I'm sure he'll have a lot to say about all of this."

They gathered up their weapons and gear and headed back to the library. Buffy found that she was dreading this conversation with her father. She had promised to tell him the truth, and she would, but after what he had witnessed tonight, she was expecting that he would be almost as unreasonable as her mother – Joyce – had been last year when she'd found out the truth.

She just hoped that he gave her a chance to explain and didn't react the way her mom had. If things had been different that night, and she'd had a chance to sit down and talk things out logically with her mom, it might have gone down differently, but the looming apocalypse had stopped that from happening. Now, at least, she wasn't under a critical deadline, so hopefully things would stay calm enough that she could talk to her father and give him time to absorb everything.

**Don't forget to leave me a happy review!**


	38. Chapter 37: Between Fact and Truth

___Author's Note: *crawls cautiously out of hiding* Um…hi guys. Here's the next update for you…I'm so terribly sorry this took so long. I've had an insanely busy summer and have literally had no chance to sit down and really work on this story, and then when I did, this chapter seriously kicked my butt. Nothing I was coming up with felt right to me. My plans went completely out the window and now my summer is over. *pouts* Oh well. I hope that you enjoy this chapter, and I will do my best to get the next one out sooner!_**  
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_**Chapter Thirty-Seven: Between Fact and Truth**_

_**"There is a distinction between fact and truth. Truth has an element of revelation about it. If something is true, it does more than strike one as merely being so."**_

_**- Lucian Freud**_

_Outside the cafeteria…_

"What's the word, Chuck?" Logan asked as they heard two loud **thumps** from inside the locked and barred room. "Do we go in?" The half-feral mutant was fidgeting as he tried to repress his obvious eagerness for a fight. He was so tense, in fact, that his claws were actually starting to peek out from between his knuckles.

As much as Charles wanted to say 'yes' and give his old friend permission to take the X-Men in to rescue his daughter, he knew he couldn't. He'd promised her that they would meet back at the library, just like she'd promised to give him a full explanation. "No, Logan. We need to go to the library. Elizabeth will meet us there." He could see the confusion on the faces of his students and the disappointment on Logan's, but his worry for his daughter caused him to dismiss it. It took all of his willpower to turn his wheelchair away from the door and head back towards the library with his students in tow.

Rogue was still half-supporting Jean as they left the student lounge area and turned down the hallway towards the library. They were halfway there when Jean suddenly pulled away from Rogue and staggered to the side of the hallways where she collapsed to her knees and began retching violently. Scott was behind her in an instant, Charles noted as he turned his chair back to face the younger telepath, and he saw the younger man's hand hovering over her back, uncertain if he should touch her or not.

"Jean? Are you all right?" Scott asked, the concern in his voice readily apparent. If he was asked, Charles knew Scott would pass it off as concern for his friend and teammate, when in reality he cared deeply for Jean and was more than half in love with her.

The redhead shook her head weakly, trembling from head to toe. Sweat beaded on her face and her bright hair looked limp and faded as the X-Men watched her closely. She was extremely pale and looked like she might throw up again any second.

Ororo knelt down beside Jean and gently smoothed her long hair back from her head, tying it into a loose knot to keep it out of her face. "What's wrong, Jean?"

"I – that man – I felt…" Jean stammered softly, unable to describe it. "His pain just –" She bent over and retched again, weakly as the very memory caused the bile in her stomach to rebel.

Charles moved closer to Jean as he realized what had happened. "Jean, focus on my voice. Don't think about what you felt. Keep your focus on me." He was desperately worried about his daughter, but he was responsible for Jean too. He had to help her. Reaching down, he grasped her shoulders and pulled her upright so that he could cup her cheeks in his hands. "Jean, look at me and keep focusing on my voice," he commanded, emphasizing the command with a telepathic force that pierced her shields. Normally he would never consider doing this, but he had no choice.

For a telepath, being in contact with someone at the moment of death – especially when the death was sudden or violent – was a sickening sensation. It was something to be aware of and avoided at all costs. Unfortunately, this was Jean's first exposure to death in this fashion, and she hadn't known that as a telepath, she had to avoid being in mind-contact with someone who was dying. Up until this point, there had never been a reason to caution her about it. This would be a valuable lesson for her, but right now there wasn't time to help her process it. For now, all he could do was help her to the extent of his ability so that he could go back to his daughter.

"Jean…focus on me," he continued to murmur to her as he worked past her shields. If he'd had more time he could have helped more, but understanding and getting past what happened wasn't something that could be done in a few minutes. It would take days to help her assimilate what she'd been through. For now, all he was able to do was to find that memory, which fortunately was right at the forefront of her mind, and construct a solid block around it, sealing it away so that she wouldn't be able to remember it until he had a chance to sit down with her and show her how to deal with what she had sensed.

It was all he could do for now.

* * *

Buffy had faced many terrifying things in her three years as the Slayer – the Master, the Judge, and her quick trip into the worker hell. Of course the psychological warfare that Angelus had put her through last year topped the list – but none of them remotely compared to the uneasy feeling in her gut over the idea of telling her father that she was the Slayer. She was terrified that it was going to go horribly wrong. He knew what she was, but he didn't _understand_, and that was the key difference.

_Get a hold of yourself!_ she scolded herself. If she kept this up, she was going to end up psyching herself out of telling him anything – which honestly wasn't a bad idea as far as she was concerned. Telling Willow and Xander had been nothing in comparison to this, because somehow they'd known that Sunnydale wasn't a safe place, and once they realized why, they were committed to helping her stop it.

Telling her mother had been altogether different. She still hated to think about that night. Joyce had been so upset, and Buffy knew that she'd handled the situation all wrong, but at the time there hadn't been a choice. She'd been worried about Giles, uneasily allied with Spike – who'd been an enemy up to that point - faced with the prospect of having to fight and kill the man she loved…it hadn't been a good time. There hadn't been time to dread telling her mother, everything had happened so fast.

But now, the sick feeling inside her was growing with every step closer to the library that she took. If only there was a way to make her father forget everything that he'd seen and heard…

That thought startled her, and for a moment she wondered if it was possible. Turning to her best friend, who was being held close by Oz, she spoke softly. "Hey, Will? Do you know of any spell that would make someone forget something they'd heard recently?"

Willow frowned in thought. "I know there _are_ spells, but I don't know any of them."

"With good reason," Giles said sharply. "Meddling with someone's memory is dangerous, and not to be undertaken at a whim. If those types of spells aren't done properly, they can cause amnesia, comas, or death. Don't even think about doing one on your father, Buffy. You made a promise to him."

Before she could reply, they rounded the corner to find her father and his students had paused halfway down the corridor. Her gaze took in the tableau. Her father was positioned in front of Jean, his hands lightly cupping the redhead's face and his gaze boring into hers. The African woman who'd come with them the first time was kneeling beside Jean, a gentle hand resting on her back.

Standing behind Jean, watching her closely, were three young teenage boys of varying heights and ages, and two more teen girls. There was also a rugged looking older man, whose face was unkempt.

It was the man who noticed them first. He stiffened suddenly, sniffing the air, before he whirled around and dropped into a defensive posture. The sudden move caused the other teens to also spin around, placing themselves firmly between Jean, her father, and the other woman – Buffy thought that she remembered that her name was Ororo.

"Who're ya?" the man growled, his voice thick and husky, his tone dangerous. He flexed his hands, as if itching for a fight.

"I'm Buffy Summers," Buffy said quietly, gesturing for her friends to stay back. "Dr. Xavier is my father."

The man narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously as the teens all gaped at her.

"_Mein Gott,_" one of the teens breathed. "Summers?"

"Any relation there, Scott?" the African-American boy kidded the oldest boy.

"Yer the Prof's kid?" the man asked, waving the teens to silence.

Buffy nodded.

Ororo looked over from where she was still kneeling next to Jean. "It's all right Logan. Let her through."

There was another moment of tenseness, before Logan straightened out of his defensive crouch and stepped aside. He nodded at the five teens and they moved back, clearing the middle of the hallway for Buffy and her friends to pass through.

Buffy took another few steps closer, looking at her father and Jean. Her father's full attention was fixed on Jean, his eyes locked on hers. "What's wrong with Jean?" There was an odd surge of jealousy at the attention he was giving the younger girl, but she squelched it ruthlessly.

"We're not sure, Buffy," Ororo said softly. "Something happened with Jean's powers, and then she got ill. She said something, but she couldn't explain it. Your father is handling it for the moment. We'll just need to wait and see."

"Do you need any help?" Mr. Giles asked softly.

"We can take care of Jean," Scott snapped.

"Scott…" Ororo said warningly.

The young man didn't look repentant at all, even as he muttered an apology in their direction. Ororo eyed him, making a note to speak to Scott later about his rudeness. She was surprised at his hostility. She would have expected that from Logan, not Scott. Scott was usually one of the most welcoming of the team. It had been he who had taken Evan and Kurt under his wing as a 'big brother' of sorts. His kindness had also been the main reason that Rogue had been convinced to leave the Brotherhood and join them instead. She watched as he turned back to Jean, kneeling down beside Ororo, obviously wanting to reach out to her, but holding himself back with an effort.

Just then, Jean sighed and blinked before she pulled away from the Professor's gentle grip. She still seemed somewhat shaky, and she was still pale, but she didn't appear to be on the verge of throwing up again. Scott shifted positions so that he could look her in the face. "Are you all right, Jean?"

She nodded slowly, and for a moment dropped her head to rest on his shoulder. "Thanks to the Professor, yes." She left her head resting on Scott's shoulder for a moment, before she raised it and pulled her feet under her.

Scott gripped her under the arm and helped her to her feet, steadying her as she got to her feet. She looked down at the Professor. "Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome, Jean. I'll help you work through it some more later," he promised. He also looked a little tired, but pulled himself together and looked over at where Buffy was standing between the rest of the team and her friends. "Eli – Buffy, is everything…?"

"I'm fine, Dad," she said quietly, taking a few steps closer to him. "What happened?"

He shook his head. "Jean experienced something traumatic when that man died in there, because she's a telepath. It's something that all telepaths and empaths need to be aware of. It's a powerful reaction that comes from being mind-linked to someone at the moment of death – especially if the death is sudden or violent. Being in telepathic contact at someone's death is a horrific, gut-wrenching experience."

Scott frowned at the Professor. "I thought telepathy was about pure thought, not emotion. That's the way you've always described it to us."

"That's mostly true," Charles agreed. "But empathy and telepathy are _very_ closely related. It's only a short step from sensing thoughts to sensing emotion, and powerful enough emotion can be broadcast to a telepath under the right conditions. In this case, the telepath receives the full impact of the fear, pain, panic, and anger right along with the victim. It's one of the few times, at least in my experience, when the telepath has no way of blocking out emotions, and the very memory of those feelings is enough to make you sick. That's what happened to Jean."

He leveled a stern look at his daughter and Jean. "It's something that you have to be aware of and try to avoid at all costs. It's debilitating, and it makes your powers completely useless, because those emotions are powerful enough to lock you into the victim's mind if you're not careful. Jean was lucky – she was able to pull back before she got trapped by what happened."

Buffy nodded. "Don't use telepathy around someone who's dying. Got it."

The glib comment made her friends chuckle, but earned her some odd looks from her father's students. She didn't particularly care. If it relaxed everyone, maybe it would be easier to tell her father about being the Slayer. She could only hope, anyway.

"Come on, let's head back to the library," Buffy told her father. She wanted to be back in a place that was familiar and comfortable. Even with the Hellmouth being directly below their feet, she always felt comfortable in the library. It was Giles' sanctum, and her life was in enough upheaval on a daily basis, so it was nice to have a place that didn't change.

Her father's students stepped aside, allowing her friends to pass. Both groups eyed each other warily, and her father's students followed at a slight distance. Scott helped Jean along, and Buffy walked up front, leading the way, her father beside her on one side, and Giles flanking her on the other. It was in this fashion that they walked into the library a few moments later.

Oz walked Willow over to the research table and started looking over her injuries. Xander started taking the group's weapons and locking them back in the book cage, while Giles ducked into his office and retrieved a small first aid kit and an ice pack, which he handed to Oz. The werewolf immediately began treating Willow's injuries with a gentle hand.

Buffy handed Faith's knife to Xander to be stored with the rest of the weapons, before she walked over to where Willow sat. "You okay, Wills?"

Willow nodded. "Yeah, Buffy. I'm all right."

"Did Faith hurt you?"

"She punched me once when I told her she was an idiot for making the choices she had," Willow said. "It's not a big deal Buffy."

Buffy stared at Willow, who was the most withdrawn of the whole group. True, she'd become more outgoing lately, but she was still not inclined to put herself forward very often. A smile crept over her face. "You told Faith off?"

"Oh yeah, it was great. See, I was locked in this storage room, and I was looking for something that I could use to get out. I must have made too much noise, because the guard came in, and he decided to take a taste. I accidentally got him with a pencil, do you believe that?"

Buffy laughed. "Good one, Will. I did that once too, when I was studying with Giles. It was the only thing wooden that I had on hand." She shot a mock glare at Giles. "Of course, Giles had another one, so I wasn't able to get out of that study session."

"You would have expected anything else?" Willow asked, causing both girls to break down into giggles.

* * *

Scott stared at the two girls from behind his glasses in amazement. What was wrong with them? They were acting like Kitty and some of her other friends did when he passed them in the hallway at school, as if they didn't have a care in the world other than gossiping. He was still holding Jean's arm, and he could see that the rest of the X-Men, including the Professor, were equally baffled by the conversation, and growing increasingly impatient and frustrated.

The Professor's daughter was nothing like he would have expected. Ever since learning that the Professor even had a daughter, he had pictured a studious, serious young woman like the Professor – not this giggling, joke-cracking California blonde who didn't seem to know how to be serious.

"Anyway, I got out of the room," the redheaded girl was continuing her story. "I got a little lost looking for the doors, and I ended up in front of the Mayor's office. He and Faith almost caught me, but I ducked into another room just in time. When they left, I went into the Mayor's office to look around, to see if there was anything in there that would help us."

"That was a big risk, Will," the blonde boy who was treating her injuries said quietly.

"I know, but it paid off. I found a cabinet in his office that had a small button under the shelves, and when I touched it, a hidden door slid open and I found the Books of Ascension."

"The _Books of Ascension_?" That comment came from the older British man who had accompanied them to the library. The younger man with the glasses also looked startled.

"Uh huh. Anyway, I sat down to look at them to see what I could find out, and that's when Faith caught me." She paused and looked down at the boy. "That's better, Oz, thanks." She leaned over and kissed him quickly, before she stood up and moved toward the checkout counter, where she jumped up to sit on it, the Professor's daughter following her. "So Faith's like 'I'm gonna beat you up' and I'm all, 'I'm not afraid of you', and then she had the knife, which was less fun but oh! I told her, 'You made your choice, Buffy was your friend and…"

"Yes, that's fascinating," the older man interrupted her again. "But let's get back to the point – you actually had your hands on the Books of Ascension?" His voice sounded strained and tense.

"Volumes one through five." Willow replied.

"Is there _anything_ you can remember that might be useful to us? Anything at all?" he pressed.

Willow looked thoughtful. "Well, I was in a hurry, and what I did read was kinda involved. If you ask me, it was way overwritten."

A disappointed look crossed his face. "Oh."

"There _were_ a few pages that looked kind of interesting, but I didn't get a chance to read them fully." She dug in her pocket and emerged with a small bundle of papers, which she held out to the older man. "See what you can make of them?"

He stared at her in shock and took them, then rushed over to the table to study them.

Buffy grinned. "This is your night for suave, Will. You should get captured more often."

"No, thank you," Willow replied, giggling.

"Well, let's hope that there's something useful in those pages," the younger bespectacled man said in a slightly bitter British voice. "The Mayor has the Box of Gavrok. As of now, we're right back where we started." He leveled a look at Buffy. "Wouldn't you say?"

She looked like she was about to respond, but before she could, Scott had had enough. "Look, this is interesting and everything, but could someone please tell us what is going on? Why was the Professor kidnapped? And someone _died…_but you're not even concerned about it? And you're joking about getting captured again!"

Buffy looked over at him seriously. "People die every single night in Sunnydale. We do our best to protect people, but we can't be everywhere at once. It's a fact of life around here, and we've learned to take whatever humor we can find whenever we can."

Before Scott could respond, Charles spoke up. "Eli – Buffy, could you please explain things now?" He was doing his best not to refer to his daughter as Elizabeth in front of her friends, but it was difficult.

Buffy hesitated, the dread gathering in her stomach again. "Um, honestly, I'd prefer it if you and I could talk alone. I don't even know anyone here except Jean and Ms. Munro."

"I'm sorry, Buffy. I forgot that you hadn't met my students yet," Charles told her sincerely. He looked at the X-Men and indicated each of them in turn. "This is Scott Summers, Kurt Wagner, Evan Daniels, Kitty Pryde, and Rogue. You know Ororo and Jean, and the other gentleman is Logan."

Buffy nodded at them. "It's nice to meet you, I guess. Um…these are my friends. The redhead is Willow Rosenberg, the silent blonde is her boyfriend Oz, and the other boy is Xander Harris. The tall one in the back –" she looked around and realized that Angel had slipped away without her noticing. "Er, well, he left. The older man is the school librarian, Giles, and the younger Brit is Wesley. Feel free to ignore him."

"Now see here, Buffy…" Wesley began sputtering in indignation, unable to say anything else. Buffy rolled her eyes at the younger Watcher.

"Like I said, feel free to ignore him."

An awkward silence fell over the group following the introductions. Buffy absently kicked the floor with the toe of her shoe, looking at the ground, while her father's gaze was on her. His students were clustered near the door to the library, none of them knowing what to say, or how to start a conversation after the way she had cut Scott's inquiries short. The Scoobies were equally uncomfortable with the situation and even Xander, who was usually known for a quip or two, was quiet.

"Elizabeth," Charles spoke softly to his daughter as the awkward silence grew almost unbearable.

She didn't react, except to kick at the ground again, as if fascinated by that spot on the floor.

"Look at me, Elizabeth," Charles repeated gently, but firmly. He wanted some answers now. He'd been patient long enough, and he wanted to know what was going on. Whatever conspiracy his daughter was involved in, he couldn't help her if he didn't know about it.

At the same time, however, he didn't know where to begin. He'd never had a heart to heart talk with his daughter before. It was one thing to offer guidance or bits of wisdom to his students. With them, he could be a mentor and guide them while still remaining somewhat aloof, and none of them would take it in the wrong way, since he _wasn't_ their father. But with his daughter, it was a different matter entirely.

She was eighteen. They _should_ have had a strong relationship, where she could come to him about anything and know that he would be there for her. It should have been a relationship built on eighteen years of him being there - raising her, disciplining her when she misbehaved, being in attendance at school events and sports matches. But they had none of that, because she had been taken from him. He had no experience at all in being a father, and he had no right to demand anything of her, including her respect and her trust. He _wanted _it, but he knew that wanting and having were two different things entirely.

His gentle voice and quiet request got through to her and she looked up. Her green eyes were nervous and wary. She had mentioned that other people had taken the news badly when she'd tried to explain to them, and apparently those reactions had scarred her deeply. There was no other reason that she should be so hesitant with him. At least, he hoped that was the case.

"Please, Elizabeth. Just tell me the truth," he continued quietly when he had her attention.

She took a deep breath and nodded. "All right. But I still want to go somewhere else and talk to you alone. This isn't news for everyone." She left the library's checkout counter and walked over to the table where Giles was pouring over the pages that Willow had stolen from the Books. She rested her hand on his shoulder. "Giles?"

"Hmm?" he said absently, his attention fixed on the pages.

She shook his shoulder slightly, knowing that she would have to force his attention off the pages and onto her. They had been looking for information about the Ascension for months, but she needed his help to tell her father. Every time she'd been on her own and tried to tell someone, it had gone badly. Maybe with his help, she could get through this without being thrown into another asylum. "Earth to Giles. I need your help."

He looked up at her, blinking owlishly, before he put the pages down and removed his glasses. "Ah. Yes, of course, Buffy." He gathered the pages up and folded them, before he slipped them inside his jacket for safe keeping. Rising to his feet, he looked over at her. "Whenever you're ready, dear girl."

"This side of never?" she ventured. At his patient, encouraging look, she sighed, and nodded. "All right. Let's go."

"Hey, wait!" Evan called. "What about us? We came out here to rescue the Professor, and we don't even get to know what's going on?"

Buffy turned and looked at him. "Sorry. This is seriously need to know only, and right now, you _don't_ need to know. If I had a choice, I wouldn't be telling my dad right now."

Charles looked at her. "Is this still a matter of trust between us, Elizabeth?"

"Partly. But mostly, this is dangerous. Like, life-threatening dangerous."

Charles didn't want to believe what she was saying, but he could tell by the tone in her voice that she was completely serious. There was also the matter of the dream that he had had. Lizzie had told him that the fate of the world might rest on their daughter's shoulders, and something of that magnitude was not without risk. "I don't care, Buffy. I want to know."

"So do we!" Kitty interjected.

Buffy shook her head firmly. "No." She looked at Charles. "If you really want to know, come with me. But your students are not invited to this conversation. This is going to be between you, Giles, and me. The fewer people who know, the better."

Charles was torn. He had promised his students that he would try not to keep secrets from them any more, after his failure to tell them that their principal, Ms. Darkholme, was really their enemy Mystique in disguise. They had pointed out that if they didn't know that danger existed, they had no way to defend against it, which was a valid point.

But at the same time, this wasn't _his_ secret to tell. It was his daughter's, and he couldn't insist that she tell his students, whom she had absolutely no reason to trust. She had admitted that she didn't trust him yet, but she was being forced to tell him now. She had no reason to take his word that his students were trustworthy, when she wasn't even sure if he was trustworthy. Just because he was her father, that didn't grant instant trust.

And he couldn't do anything that would jeopardize the fragile relationship between them yet.

"I'm sorry Kitty. She's right. This isn't a secret that you need to know right now," he told them. At the disappointed, somewhat rebellious looks on their faces, he fixed a firm look on his own. "I told you a few weeks ago that there would be secrets and challenges in the future, and that there would be some that you would simply not be ready to deal with. That is the case here."

"Shouldn't that be _our_ choice?" Evan asked.

"No. It's mine." Buffy said firmly. "This is my secret, and I am the one who will decide who gets to know about it."

When they still looked upset at his decision, he decided to reinforce his orders. _**X-Men, I am still trying to convince my daughter to join us in New York. For now, I have to follow her wishes, if I want to convince her of my sincerity. If and when I have that trust with her, I will try to persuade her to let you know. But it is ultimately going to be up to her.**_ His telepathic voice reached out to all of them at once, and slowly, reluctantly, they all nodded as they realized his position on the matter.

"Logan, Ororo, take the others home. I'll be in touch with you soon."

"All right, Charles," Ororo replied after exchanging a look with Logan.

"But no more cryptic messages, okay Chuck? If ya need us to come bail you out, just say so," Logan added.

Charles had to stifle a smile at Logan's words. "I'll do my best, Logan."

Logan started ushering the rest of the students out. They cast glances back over their shoulders at their mentor, before they followed Wolverine out. Ororo watched them go, before she turned back to Charles. "If we don't hear from you in a few days, Charles, Logan or I will be coming back out here to find out what's going on."

"I promise I'll be in touch. Keep the students in training in the meantime," Charles replied.

Ororo nodded before she followed the rest of the team out of the library. Charles watched her go, knowing that he would have to do a better job of explaining things soon. The X-Men had never questioned his decisions before, and it made him wonder just how distracted he had seemed to them in recent weeks. It would be something to reflect on later, after he found out what was going on with Elizabeth.

As the doors closed behind Ororo, he looked over at his daughter. "I'm ready when you are, Elizabeth," he told her softly. Now he would find out what his daughter was hiding.

She took a deep breath before she nodded. "All right. Giles?" She looked over at her former Watcher.

He nodded before he looked over at the rest of the Scoobies. "Could I trouble you to make sure that the cafeteria is put back to rights and the creatures' bodies are brought back here for Wesley and I to study?"

"Sure, Giles," Xander replied. "We'll take care of it before we head home."

"Good luck, Buffy. See you in school on Monday?" Willow asked.

Buffy smiled weakly. "Definitely. Thanks for understanding, guys." She turned and started to head for the door, with Giles and her father following her.

"Buffy, you cannot do this," Wesley spoke up for the first time in several minutes. "The Council has forbidden –"

"Go home, Wesley. It's my decision, and I don't care what the Council says. I haven't cared about their 'rules' since the Cruciamentum."

Charles frowned at the odd word. Before he could ask his daughter what she was talking about, she turned and left the library at a quick walk, forcing him and Giles to move just as fast to keep up with her.

They walked quickly through the hallways without speaking. The uncomfortable look on Buffy's face did not encourage questions or comments at the moment and it was rather obvious that she was tired and frustrated. Charles was trying to throttle his own curiosity, to give his daughter some time before he started asking her to explain things.

As they exited the school, Buffy took a deep breath and seemed to relax. She closed her eyes for a moment before she turned to her father with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry about that. Wesley just annoys me, but I don't have a choice about working with him, so I have to put up with his moronic behavior."

Giles reached out and touched her shoulder. "Buffy, it'll be all right. I don't particularly like Wesley either, but he is young and he doesn't have the same amount of experience that I did when I became your Watcher. Give him some time before you condemn him."

She frowned at him. "I thought you said you hadn't trained a Slayer before."

"I hadn't, before I was assigned to you. But I was talking about life experience, not Watcher experience. He's trying to prove himself to you and to the Council, but he's trying too hard. I didn't have that problem to worry about."

Buffy nodded. "All right. I'll give him some more time." She sighed again, before she turned back to her father. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything," Charles said promptly. "I don't know what kind of conspiracy you're involved in, but –"

"It's not a conspiracy, Dr. Xavier," Giles corrected.

Buffy nodded in agreement. "It's more of a destiny." She sighed. "I'm a Vampire Slayer." She turned and started heading down the street, with the two men on either side of her.

"You said that earlier, but what exactly did you mean?" Charles asked. "What is a Vampire Slayer?"

"I kill vampires, so they can't kill other people." Her tone was matter-of-fact. "They are soulless monsters and if I don't kill them, they would have free reign to feed on us."

Charles was still having issues comprehending what she was telling him. Magic, vampires…they didn't exist. If they did, the whole world would know about it. Sure, there were plenty of books and movies on the subjects, but those were stories – not real and not based in fact. "By vampires, you mean Dracula?" he asked, thinking of the classic Bram Stoker novel.

"Pretty much," Buffy said. "They drink human blood to survive, avoid daylight, and burn into ash when they're set on fire. A wooden stake, cross, and holy water all work on them."

Charles shook his head in disbelief. He still didn't believe that she could be serious about this. The very idea was ludicrous. He knew his tone reflected it when he spoke, but he couldn't help it. "Did you just wake up one morning and decide to start hunting vampires?"

"It was decided _for_ me," she corrected. This time he could hear bitterness in her tone. "It was a grand destiny, but no one ever asked me if I wanted it."

"No one - ?" he couldn't finish the sentence, unable to comprehend that thought.

Before Giles or Elizabeth could answer, there was a rustling in the bushes to their right and both of them looked sharply in that direction. Once again, Charles saw something determined and almost dangerous come over his daughter. Her entire body was tense, ready to respond at a moment's notice to threat.

"Giles, what do you have?"

He checked his pockets, and a moment later produced a long, sharp wooden stake and a small glass bottle.

Buffy nodded in approval. "Keep my dad safe, Giles." She took several steps away from them, towards the bushes. She glanced back over her shoulder at her father. "Looks like you're about to meet your first real vampire, Dad."

* * *

_Sunnydale High Library…_

"Ugh, these things are gross," Xander was holding the crushed remains of one of the mayor's spider demons at arm's length.

"But if they help Giles and Wesley find out more about the Ascension, isn't it worth it?" Willow wondered as she held out another one of the specimen jars that Giles kept in his office.

"Definitely." Oz held out the spider that Faith had pinned to the wall with her knife and dropped it into the jar as well.

Wesley had left a few minutes after Buffy, Giles, and Dr. Xavier, leaving the three of them to clean up the cafeteria and library. The cafeteria had been put back to rights, and the supplies that they had used during the raid on City Hall had been put away. The only thing they couldn't do was anything about the dead guard in the cafeteria. Calling the police wouldn't work, because none of them were supposed to be in the school at night anyway, and they couldn't explain their presence there.

"I hope Buffy is able to explain everything to her dad," Willow said as she put the jar back in Giles' office for safekeeping. "If he can't accept her as the Slayer, it'll crush her – and she doesn't need that again."

"What was up with him anyway? He called her Elizabeth, didn't he?" Xander asked as he took one more look around the library to make sure that everything was put away. "That's not Buff's name."

"According to the things Angel and I found, her birth name is Elizabeth, not Buffy," Willow said. "I don't know if she's going to start going by that or not, but I imagine that it must be difficult for her father to refer to her as Buffy."

Oz nodded, but Xander looked puzzled. "I don't know why it would matter. Shouldn't he call her what she wants? I mean, she's Buffy."

"I don't know, Xander. Maybe that's what she wants. Maybe she wants to be Elizabeth. It's up to her, I guess," Willow said.

"We just need to be there for her," Oz said, draping an arm over Willow's shoulders as they left the library, stakes and crosses in hand. "She's going through some tough times."

The other two nodded before they started for home. Hopefully, Buffy would have news for them on Monday at school.

* * *

Buffy had moved closer to the bushes. "Come out already. I don't have time to play hide and seek with you, fang-face."

"Elizabeth, what - ?" Charles started to follow, but Giles stepped in front of his wheelchair and blocked his path.

"You cannot interfere, Dr. Xavier. Buffy can handle this."

Charles couldn't believe how calm the man was. He was just going to stand there while Elizabeth fought? And he called himself Elizabeth's friend?

The vampire took his daughter at her word, and leapt from the bushes, straight at her throat. Buffy dodged easily and spun around behind it, before she landed an elbow on its back and sent it face-first into the ground.

Buffy whirled again, pivoting on the balls of her feet as she fell into a relaxed, skillful fighting stance. Charles couldn't help but notice how fluidly she moved. He'd seen Logan move similarly when he was focused and intent and not in a maddened rage. When he was at peace with himself and focused on what he was doing, Wolverine could move with a grace that spoke of long years of martial arts training, and his skill level could not be denied.

His daughter was moving with the same grace and fluidity. As the vampire – and Charles couldn't believe that his daughter was fighting a vampire, no matter what she said – rose to its feet, Buffy reached out and caught its arm, holding it still while she landed three sharp snap kicks in quick succession to its torso and abdomen.

Twisting and spinning, she literally lifted her larger attacker off of his feet and planted him on his back on the ground. But before she could do anything else, he kicked out and caught her ankle, sending her crashing to the ground. It was a clumsy, but effective move as it forced her to roll away as she took the impact on her shoulder.

"Elizabeth!" Charles called, while his heart was in his throat.

"She's all right, Doctor," Giles said again, calmly. "Buffy, on your feet!"

"Getting there, Giles," Buffy called as she stopped rolling and lay on her back long enough to rock back onto her shoulders and flip herself upright. Meanwhile her attacker had taken the advantage to climb to his feet and now turned to face Giles and Charles.

Charles stared at the vampire in horror. Its face was hideously deformed, with a heavy, pronounced brow, narrow, slanting yellow eyes that glowed with a deep inner fire, and long, pointed fangs protruding over its lower lip. It had dark brown hair, worn slightly longer than was fashionable.

There was something naggingly familiar about the creature however, and Charles narrowed his eyes as he fought to place the memory. As his daughter approached from behind, a wooden stake clenched in her fist, the vampire turned again to face her and its hair shifted slightly, revealing a old, ragged scar on the side of its neck – and the memory snapped into place.

He recognized that scar. He had noticed it years ago when he had first met David Walker, and had learned that the man had received it in the line of duty when he had worked for the New York City Police Department. A suspect had gotten the jump on him and held him hostage with a knife at his throat. The knife had bit deeply enough to leave that scar, but David had survived, thanks to his partner distracting the suspect long enough for the SWAT team to take the man out with tear gas and tasers.

"David?" was all he could manage before his daughter buried the stake she was holding into the former detective's chest and he disintegrated into dust and ashes.

_German Translation:_

_Mein Gott_: My God

**Don't forget to review!**


	39. Chapter 38: Seeking Acceptance

___Woot! I'm back again, everyone! I don't know where all of you are hiding - I hope you're not mad at me because of the long delay before the previous chapter...but to make up for it, I am giving you another one! I am very happy with this one, it just flew out so easily...so don't forget to review!_**  
**__

_**Chapter 38: Seeking Acceptance**_

_"There is no formula for success except perhaps an unconditional acceptance of life and what it brings."_

_- Arthur Rubinstein_

_The X-Jet, enroute to Bayville…Saturday night…_

Normally, the jet was filled with quiet chatter from the students celebrating a successful mission. They would have been talking about their best moments, or something particularly interesting that they had done with their powers. This time, however, it was completely quiet. The only other recent time in Ororo's memory that this had happened had been the night when they had failed to bring Rogue home with them.

Ororo hadn't realized until just them how much she missed the sound of the students' chatter. They were young and exuberant teens, and most of the time they were excited about their powers and abilities. Their laughter and happy conversation always let her know how much they enjoyed their lives as X-Men, even though it was a heavy burden that they had agreed to take on. _The news about the Professor having a daughter has shaken everything and everyone,_ she thought to herself as she glanced over to Logan, who was sitting next to her in the pilot's seat.

Logan's square-jawed face was tense and his dark eyes were intent and filled with repressed frustration. It wasn't often that he was around a fight and didn't get a chance to participate, so his adrenaline was still up. Ororo had no doubt that he would be spending time in the Danger Room when they returned to the mansion. Wolverine was a scrapper who loved to fight and would use any provocation.

"She's not what I expected," Scott finally broke the silence in the jet.

"What are you talking about, Scott?" Kitty asked curiously.

"The Professor's daughter. She's not what I expected when the Professor told us about her," Scott clarified.

"Yeah, really," Evan agreed. "She was really rude and bossy."

"And she was laughin' and jokin' about getting captured, and didn't even seem all that sorry that someone _died_," Rogue added in her thick Southern drawl as she shook back her dark red and white hair.

"Speaking of which," Evan jumped back into the conversation, "how _did_ that guy die?"

The other students - with the exception of Jean, who was sitting back in her seat with her eyes closed - shook their heads, indicating that they didn't know. None of them had gotten close enough to see what had happened after Professor Xavier had asked them not to use their powers, so of all of them, Jean was probably the only one who had some inkling of what had happened.

"You don't think…?" Evan asked, trailing off without finishing the question.

Ororo narrowed her eyes at her nephew's question. From what she had seen of Charles' daughter, there was no way that the young woman would have had anything to do with the death of that man. She had always considered herself to be a fairly good judge of character, and she wondered if she was going to have to talk to Evan again. If Charles managed to bring his daughter home to Bayville, the last thing that she would need was the rest of the team dancing around her, wondering if she had killed someone else. Not to mention, the very idea would shatter Charles.

Scott shook his head slowly. "I don't think so, Evan. She was calm about it, but not completely detached. But that wasn't what I meant. I just pictured someone who was more…scholarly? Someone more like the Professor, I guess. To look at her, you wouldn't even know they were related. She didn't look anything like him."

Kitty scoffed. "Oh, come on, Scott. You've taken biology at Bayville, and I know the Professor has taught you something about genetics. She doesn't have to look like the Professor to be related to him."

"She looks like her mother," Jean said softly, drawing the attention of the rest of the students. The telepath looked much better than she had when they had left Sunnydale. Her skin wasn't nearly as pale or clammy-looking as it had been, and her trembling had all but stopped. Her eyes were still closed as she spoke, but other than that she appeared to be back to normal. Whatever the Professor had done, it had apparently worked well.

Scott stood up from his seat and moved over to crouch in the aisle next to the other teen. "Jean? What do you mean?"

The redhead opened her green eyes and looked at the others. "She looks like her mother, the Professor's wife. And you shouldn't judge her on one night and one meeting. When I was there with the Professor last week, she was completely different. She was quiet, and a bit more hesitant. I was surprised by how quickly she leaned to shield, since she's a telepath, but there was something she was desperate to hide from me when Professor Xavier had us work together."

"Do you know what it is?" Evan asked.

Jean shook her head. "I only caught flashes, impressions – a name, a face – but nothing concrete. Every time I started to sense something that was leaking past her shields, she would pull away."

Evan was about to say something more, but Kitty jumped back into the conversation. "Guys, we need to stop talking about this. It's none of our business. If she has a secret, she has a right to keep it."

"Yeah right, Kitty!" Evan said. "Don't pretend like you don't wanna know too!"

"I do," Kitty admitted. "But I'm willing to wait until she's ready to tell us." The youngest member of the team looked around. "We all have secrets – she's entitled to hers."

Ororo smiled at Kitty's defense of the Professor's daughter before she stood up and turned to look at the students with a firm look on her face. "Kitty's right – and you all need to remember that Elizabeth is not only dealing with her new mutant powers, but also with finding out that Professor Xavier is her father. Both of those things could be making her act differently than she normally would."

She fixed Evan with a sharp look before she looked back at the rest of the team. "Until we hear more from Professor Xavier, I want you to keep your opinions and speculations to yourself. If he is successful in convincing Elizabeth to join us, she doesn't need to come in to a cloud of suspicion and mistrust. Is that understood?"

Murmurs and nods agreement came from the teens. Ororo nodded, satisfied, before she sat back down in her seat and the rest of them fell silent again for the rest of the flight back to the mansion.

* * *

_Sunnydale, outside the High School…_

Charles wasn't sure what he should be thinking or feeling as he watched Elizabeth slam a wooden stake into David Walker's heart. There was a single moment of absolute quiet before the detective's body literally burst apart and turned into dist and ashes which settled quietly onto the grass at their feet. He could only stare at his daughter, who calmly pocketed the stake, glanced around once, and then moved toward him at a casual walk. His gaze turned to where the innocuous pile of dust and ash rested on ground a few feet away.

This – all of it – it made no sense! _David was dead already. He was murdered, according to that detective Stein,_ Charles thought, trying to make some sense of it all. _He must have been mistaken though, because that __**was**__ David. The dead do not rise!_

"Dad?" his daughter's soft voice pierced through some of the confusion. He blinked, finally able to tear his eyes away from the place on the ground where the dust and ashes had fallen. He looked up at her and realized in that moment that his daughter, no matter how much she resembled Lizzie, was nothing like his wife. Lizzie could never had cone what she just had.

"Why did you do that?" he asked her flatly, still somewhat stunned by her actions.

"It was a vampire."

"He was my friend," Charles corrected her, glancing again at the pile of ashes. How could this have happened to David? _Why_ had it happened?

His daughter's gaze sharpened immediately. "You knew about vampires before we met?"

"What?" Charles blinked again at the sharp, almost accusatory tone in her voice. That lethal change had come over her again. Her green eyes were intent and dangerous – again, it was a look he'd never seen in Lizzie's sweet features. Lizzie had gotten angry at times, but there had never been that deadly intensity in her eyes that was in Elizabeth's at that moment.

"That vampire was a friend of yours?" she asked again.

"Yes." What did she expect him to say? And what had he said that had made her so angry and dangerous?

"Buffy, I believe that your father means before that man became a vampire, he was a friend," Giles replied calmly as he noticed her tense readiness.

She blinked at him for a moment before she relaxed and her gaze softened. "Oh. I gotcha." She turned to look at Charles. "I'm sorry I had to put it down, Dad, but it was a vampire."

"I –" he couldn't continue. This conversation had gone from odd to completely insane in a matter of only a few seconds.

"Dr. Xavier, allow me," Giles said, taking in the bewildered expression on his face. "To put it quite simply, a vampire is a demon that has possessed the lifeless corpse of a human. When a human is bitten by a vampire, the soul is lost – sent on to wherever the soul goes after death. A demon then takes possession of the body and the body is brought back to a perverted mockery of life. Through some dark magic that we don't understand, the demon gains all the knowledge and memories of the former occupant. Thus, a vampire may have characteristics and habits of its victim, but it is not truly the owner of that body. So when you see a vampire, especially if it is someone you knew, the important thing to remember is that you're not looking at your friend. You are looking at the thing that killed him."

Buffy nodded in agreement. "Your friend is dead, Dad. At peace. I killed the demon – the loss of the body is an unavoidable side effect."

Charles took a deep breath as he tried to absorb everything that they were telling him. It would take him some time to wrap his logical mind around everything. He had been a scientist for too long to simply accept things at face value. "I don't understand this world you're trying to introduce me to, Elizabeth, and I don't know if I ever will."

His daughter's features were soft again, with compassion and sympathy. "I know, Dad. I've been a Slayer for almost four years, and even I don't know everything about it. I wish there was some way that I could ensure that you could suffer from what we call the Sunnydale Syndrome, but unfortunately that's not possible. Give it time. You don't have to try to figure it out all in one day."

"Sunnydale Syndrome?" he asked. "What is that?"

"It's what we call selective memory loss of everything involved with the supernatural," she said. "It affects almost everyone in this town at some point."

"Buffy, we should probably keep going. We can talk more at my flat," Giles pointed out.

"Okay," she agreed. Together they turned and started walking down the street, and Charles followed, still thinking about what he had just witnessed and learned.

As they walked, his daughter was speaking quietly with her mentor, giving him some space to simply think and digest everything that she had been telling him. But for some reason, Charles still couldn't wrap his mind around the idea of vampires and demons. The single thought that he kept coming back to was the one that had struck him earlier. His daughter was nothing like her mother.

Lizzie had been kind and gentle. In the years he'd known her, there had only been one time (to his knowledge) when she had struck someone in anger, and that someone had been him. It had been during the darkest days after the accident that had stolen his ability to walk and left him confined to his chair.

"_Charles?"_

_He closed his eyes and turned his head away from his wife as she entered his hospital room. He wasn't in the mood to cope with her cheer and her loving concern. It had been a month since the accident and he still had no feeling in his legs, while he was forced to suffer through serious spasms of pain at the slightest movement. He had spoken to his doctors that morning and now knew their prognosis._

_The accident had caused his legs to be completely crushed and had severed the nerves in multiple places, as well as crushing his lower spine and severing many of the nerves there and damaging others. The bones in his legs and back could be repaired with intensive surgery and traction, but the nerves could not be reattached. The pain he continually suffered whenever he moved wrong or too much came from the places where the nerves had been damaged but not completely severed, and the doctors were uncertain if any type of therapy or treatment existed that could correct that problem. It was quite likely that he would suffer from those spasms for the rest of his life. At any rate, he was paralyzed from the waist down._

_He would never walk again. Current medical science wasn't advanced enough to cure paralysis to heal the extensive nerve damage he'd sustained, and by the time it was – if that ever happened in his lifetime – the injuries would most likely be too old to reverse._

"_Charles?" Lizzie stepped up beside the bed and laid her hand on his cheek before she leaned down to kiss him. He pulled away almost as soon as her lips brushed his._

_His wife of one year pulled back, hurt by his actions. "Charles, what is it?" He'd never pulled away from her touch or her kisses before. For the past month, during all the tests and procedures to first determine and then to try to correct the damage that had been done to her husband's legs, she'd tried to be his rock. She'd stayed with him constantly, consulting with the doctors about treatments and therapies, distracted him from the pain as best she could, and simply held him when the pain was too much for him to handle._

_He didn't answer her quiet question, keeping his eyes firmly closed so that she wouldn't have to see the raw devastation in them. He didn't know what he would do. He had been an athlete as well as a scientist and a scholar his whole life. In high school and college he had been a football player and a track star. The idea of being confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life horrified him._

"_Talk to me, Charles," Lizzie insisted. "I can't help you unless –"_

"_Help me?" Charles snapped, his eyes flying open to glare at his wife. "No one can help me Lizzie! I'm paralyzed! I spoke to the doctors this morning. I won't ever walk again. I'm going to be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of my life!"_

_Lizzie's eyes were wide, but he could tell she wasn't surprised by the news, and that only inflamed his anger more. "You knew!" he accused her. "You knew and you didn't tell me!"_

_His wife's beautiful green eyes filled with tears. "I'm a doctor, Charles. Yes, I knew. Your doctors told me it was a likely outcome right after the accident. You were in so much pain those first hours before they sedated you, and during that time that you were unconscious, they wanted to make sure that I knew what you would be facing. They were hoping the damage wasn't as bad as it appeared, but they felt that I should know what the most likely outcome was so that I wouldn't get my hopes up."_

_Charles turned his face away from her again, not even listening to her reasoning. "I can't believe you've known for a month and didn't tell me. Did you think I couldn't handle the news?"_

"_I was trying to hope for the best – that the damage wasn't that extensive – and that they might have a treatment that would work before you gave up hope." Lizzie reached out to touch him again, trying to turn his head to look at her._

"_But there is no hope, Lizzie," he said angrily. "I will be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of my life. I was an athlete, and now I'll have to rely on other people, and they'll pity me for it. I've seen the looks on people's faces when they seen someone who is handicapped in some way. I don't want to be pitied."_

"_No one will pity you, Charles. Not if you hold your head high."_

_He shook his head, lost in his anger and depression. "Nothing will be the same–"_

_**SMACK!**_

_Charles' eyes flew to his wife as her palm made sharp, stinging contact with his cheek. Her tears were spilling down her cheeks, smearing her makeup, but her face was filled with anger and determination. "Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Your life isn't over. You still have your hands, your mind, and your life. You have friends who will do anything for you if you ask them, and you still can have the career you love. You may not ever recover fully, but you can still learn and teach. You can adapt – __**we**__ can adapt."_

_Charles raised his hand to his stinging cheek. "We?" he asked carefully. That had been his greatest fear – more so than the idea of being pitied by the people who had respected him, or the idea of being trapped in a wheelchair. His greatest fear was that his beloved wife wouldn't want to be burdened by him any longer, or forced to care for him – that she would abandon him now that he wasn't the way he had been when they had fallen in love years ago._

"_We," she said firmly. "You still have __**me**__, Charles. I will __**never**__ leave you, and I will be standing beside you all the way." Her voice and her words were completely sincere as she met his gaze openly, allowing him to see that she wasn't lying to him or trying to deceive him. "I __**love**__ you, Charles Xavier, and that will __**never**__ change."_

"Dad?"

Charles shook himself free of his reverie to see that Elizabeth had dropped back to walk beside him. He looked up at her, seeing Lizzie in the curiosity in her eyes. In that one thing, they were alike. She so resembled her mother in looks, but what he found most interesting was the way the same expressions that he had seen on his wife's face played out identically on their daughter's – and it was odd considering that Elizabeth had never met her mother.

"Yes, Elizabeth?"

"Are you okay? You looked sort of…distant and sad again. Were you thinking about your friend?"

Charles shook his head. "I was thinking about your mother." He sighed and changed the subject. "How did this happen to David?"

"He was bitten by a vampire, who chose to convert him."

"Convert him?" he echoed.

Buffy nodded. "Vampires can choose to either simply feed from their victim, or to make them into vampires through a blood exchange. Most of the time, they're just going to kill you." Her look softened more. "You knew him for a long time, didn't you?"

"Seventeen years. I first met him a year after you were kidnapped. He was the private investigator I hired to continue the search for you."

Buffy frowned. "And he's been looking for me for all that time?"

Charles shook his head again. "No. We called off the search after the second year of looking for you. But when your powers registered on the device I use to track new mutants and locate my students, I contacted him and asked him to come out here to find out more about you and to look for proof that you were my daughter."

Buffy sighed. "And he was easy prey for the vampires here on the Hellmouth."

"Hellmouth?"

His daughter nodded again. "The reason I'm stuck here, and a serious pain in the rear. I've learned to hate surprises since I moved here, and it's all the Hellmouth's fault."

As they spoke, they entered the small courtyard that belonged to an apartment complex, and Giles led the way to his door, which he unlocked and held open for his guests. Once they were inside and the door was locked, he headed for his kitchen. "Tea, anyone?"

"No, thanks, Giles," Buffy said as she nudged a stack of books out of the way so Charles could maneuver his chair around the couch. She watched her father, admiring the way that he could maintain his calm and his poise despite all of the bizarre information they were throwing at him left and right. Despite how frustrated he had to be, he was _trying_, and that made her feel warm inside. He wasn't dismissing her out of hand, or acting like he thought that she was insane and needed to be locked away for her own safety.

"_I told you. I'm a Vampire Slayer."_

"_Well, I just don't accept that."_

Buffy flinched as she remembered that fight with her mother. It was still one of the things that she regretted most since she'd become the Slayer.

"_No! Buffy, this is insane! You need help!"_

"_I'm not crazy! What I need is for you to chill! I have to go!"_

At least her father wasn't flipping out the way her mother had. Of course, just because he wasn't exploding at her didn't mean that he was accepting. She had no doubt that it would take just as much to convince him as it had her mother. She only hoped that he would continue to remain calm. As long as they could both hold onto their tempers, she had real hope that things might work out better than it had last year.

"Tea would be wonderful, Mr. Giles," Charles replied in answer to her former Watcher's earlier question once he had gotten himself situated. He looked around the apartment, noting the many bookshelves that were literally stuffed with ancient looking tomes and scrolls. Several of the walls had various types of weapons mounted on them – he noted a few short swords and axes, a crossbow, and several knives. All of the weapons looked to be antiques, but they were obviously well-cared for, and although he was no expert, appeared to have been used recently.

_What is going on?_ he thought, not for the first (or last) time. _How can any of this be real? It's all completely insane and it just doesn't make sense._

"How did you get roped into all of this, Elizabeth?" he asked, knowing that his tone was somewhat desperate, despite his attempts to remain calm and in control. He was tired of only getting bits and pieces of the story. This made no sense and he just couldn't seem to put it into any order. His logical, trained, scientific mind just wasn't helping him to understand.

"I was Chosen," she replied.

"Chosen by whom? Why?"

"I wish I knew," his daughter replied. "As for who – the Powers That Be, supposedly." She sighed. "If I'd had a choice, I would have told them to stuff it."

Charles blinked as a memory that wasn't his own flashed into his mind, somehow bypassing his shields as if they weren't there. He saw his daughter standing in her kitchen with Joyce. His daughter was almost in tears from the passion that she was speaking with, and Joyce was just staring at her, unable to speak.

"_What do you think has been going on for the past two years? The fights, the weird occurrences. How many times have you washed blood out of my clothing and you still haven't figured it out?"_

"_Well it stops now!"_

"_No, it doesn't stop! It __**never**__ stops! Do…do you think I chose to be like this? Do you have any idea how lonely it is? How dangerous? I would love to be upstairs watching TV or gossiping about boys or…God even studying! But I have to save the world! Again!"_

Charles blinked again as the memory abruptly ended and Giles came out of his kitchen with a tea tray and set it on the coffee table before he handed him a cup. The rich aroma of Earl Grey with lemon wafted through the air and helped him focus on his daughter and her mentor, and not on the memory he had just seen.

"All right," Giles said. "Now, perhaps I can explain some of this for you, Doctor Xavier."

Charles nodded as he took a sip of his tea. "That would be nice. I'm afraid I'm still very confused."

Giles nodded. "It is quite simple. The Slayer is truly the only line of defense the human world has against the dark powers. There are other hunters and mercenaries who hunt the vampires and demons, but they do it voluntarily, and they can get out at any point they choose."

"And Elizabeth…"

"Never had a choice. She was born as one of the few girls in each generation with the potential to become the Slayer. We don't know what it is that makes these girls worthy of becoming potentials. The Higher Powers choose the girl whom they feel has the best chance of facing and stopping the threat, and who is most worthy of the powers of the Slayer. Unfortunately, the girl in question doesn't get a say in whether or not she will accept those powers and the responsibility."

Charles felt a slow, simmering anger building up inside him as he realized that his daughter had been conscripted into a war without a choice. "What gives these so-called Higher Powers the right? What about free will and independent choice?"

Giles shook his head. "I don't know. All I do know is that this is the way it's always been, ever since the first Slayer was Chosen."

"And what role, exactly, do you play in all of this, Mr. Giles?"

"Giles is – was – my Watcher," Buffy answered for him.

"Your Watcher?"

Giles nodded. "For almost as long as the Slayer has existed, there has been a Council whose members have taken on the hereditary duties of locating the girls with the potential to become the Slayer and training them so that if they should be Chosen, they won't have to fight alone. Each Slayer is assigned a Watcher who trains her, guides her, and helps her discover the weaknesses of her enemies. When Buffy first moved to Sunnydale, I was assigned as her Watcher, however, earlier this year I was fired because the Head of the Council believed that I was becoming too biased to perform my duties, and that is when Wesley was assigned to your daughter. I stayed in Sunnydale out of loyalty to your daughter."

Charles sipped his tea as he thought about what he had learned thus far and tried to put it in some logical order. But for some reason, he was still having difficulty grasping the concept, which was unusual for him. He was used to being able to apply logic and scientific reason to any problem and be able to come up with a solution, so why couldn't he this time? What about this situation was different?

_All right, start slowly,_ he told himself. _Point number one: Vampires exist, just like in Dracula, and they prey on humans._ The idea that there were people and things out there that preyed on humans wasn't difficult to grasp – after all, people killed each other over little things all the time. He had no doubt that once the idea of mutants became wide-spread, there would be hatred and bigotry towards them as well. That was what his X-Men were for – to show the world that humans and mutants could live in peace.

No, it was the idea that _vampires_ existed that was proving to be so difficult to grasp. Vampires were just stories.

_But someone had to invent the stories…legends about vampires don't spring up out of thin air, especially legends so prevalent. _There was a whole, dedicated following of people who wanted nothing more than to become vampires because they craved the lonely, supposedly romantic lifestyle. He might not be completely up on current trends in fashion and gossip, but he did live with six teenagers, and he'd overheard more than one conversation regarding the subject, especially from Rogue, who loved reading horror and supernatural stories.

_This is ridiculous. Until I have some way of disproving it, I need to just accept the idea that vampires __**could**__ exist, and move on,_ he told himself firmly. _Point number two: if vampires do exist, and they do prey on humans, then logically there would have to be __**someone**__ who could stop them. Just like human criminals have the police, a supernatural criminal would have to have a supernatural counter of some kind. Why couldn't it be a teenage girl?_

_Why did it have to be my Elizabeth!_ his heart cried.

_Not relevant! _his logical mind snapped back. _Consider the ramifications later!_

"Mr. Giles, why is it a teenage girl who has to be the Slayer?" he asked as that occurred to him.

"There are theories, but no real answers," Giles said. "Considering how long ago the Slayer was created, the Council's best guess is that girls have always symbolized purity, innocence, and goodness in magical rituals. To counter something so evil as a demon or a vampire would require something pure and – supposedly – innately good. In addition, boys were always more valuable to tribes and civilizations. They could hunt, and protect the tribe, whereas a girl's value was in her ability to give birth to the next generation – but if the tribe wasn't around because of an enemy attack, there would be no need for the girl. So it was easier to take one girl to turn into the Slayer, than it was to sacrifice a boy who could better protect the tribe as a whole."

Charles nodded slowly. While science had always been his favored subject, he'd taken the history courses that had been required for his degrees, and he knew about how early civilizations had viewed the woman as a possession, not an individual with a mind of her own.

_All right, point three: in order to stop the vampires, the girl would have to have powers that would put her on the same level as the vampires. Girls weren't trained to fight in those days, so some type of advantage would have to have been given to her to put her on an equal footing. _Out of everything, that made the most sense to him. It wasn't that different from the idea of evolution – adapting to meet the needs of the environment. _Point four: if the girl wasn't forced into accepting her newfound powers, what girl in her right mind would willingly choose this sort of responsibility?_

The memory he'd caught from his daughter, about wanting to be normal but being unable to flashed back into the forefront of his memory.

"What prevents the chosen girl from refusing her responsibilities, or using her powers to help evil? It's true that power corrupts," Charles asked, suddenly wondering if Elizabeth could "go bad".

His daughter exchanged a long look with her mentor that he didn't understand, and he saw what appeared to be regret and reluctance on their faces before the former Watcher answered.

"To answer the first part of your question, when the Slayer gifts are bestowed on the Chosen girl, the Slayer powers themselves create drive in the Slayer to hunt and an instinct to kill vampires."

"It's hard to resist, and God knows I've tried many times," Buffy added. "I can ignore the urges for a few days, but after that I get very twitchy and I have to hunt. There's also the fact that creatures of darkness are drawn to the Slayer, and they play for keeps. Either I hunt, fight, and win, or I will die, because they won't hesitate to kill."

Charles blanched at the thought. "You – you could die?"

_*ducks and runs for cover* Don't kill me, but remember to review!_


	40. Chapter 39: Caught in the Middle

_Author's Note: All right ladies and gentlemen, "Lost and Found" has officially become a series! I have added a prequel story of sorts called "Saying Good-Bye" that deals with the immediate aftermath of Lizzie's death. I didn't know if all of you were tracking me as an author, or tracking one specific story, so I thought I would post the notification here in hopes that some of you will read and review – and don't forget to read and review this chapter too!_

_Also, a huge shout out to **GypsyWitch** who was the stories 500th reviewer on TTH and to **Mountain King** who was the 350th reviewer at fanfiction dot net!_

_**Chapter Thirty-Nine: Caught in the Middle**_

_"For those who believe, no proof is necessary. For those who don't believe, no proof is possible."_

_- Stuart Chase_

Buffy wanted to kick herself as her father's face turned whiter than a vampire's in only a few seconds as her words about dying sunk in. They had just found each other, and now he would be freaking out about the fact that she could die any time she fought. _Crap! How do I fix this?_ she wondered.

She knew her life was dangerous. It was part of being the Slayer. She didn't like it, but she had accepted the fact that she would likely die young. There were always going to be things that were bigger and badder gunning for her, and one day she was going to meet up with the one thing that she couldn't defeat. On the day that happened, she would die. It wouldn't matter if it was a year from now, five years, or ten years.

Unfortunately, her accepting that fact didn't make it any easier. More than anything she wanted a normal life. She wanted to go to college, have a career, fall in love and get married, and maybe even have a family some day. With Angel, she had the "falling in love" part down, but theirs was an impossible relationship. Every time they were together they risked Angel having a moment of perfect happiness, which would cost him his soul. It didn't stop them from being in love, but it also didn't make a relationship easy.

Now, in addition to being the Slayer, she was a telepath and a mutant. If her life wasn't freaky enough before, what with stalking and killing the undead every night, now she had to deal with overhearing the thoughts of others, being able to attack people with the power of her mind, and possibly could be forced to defend herself against other people who were telepathic. And that wasn't even taking into account the fact that she had been kidnapped by an unknown group or person when she was an infant for an unknown reason.

Yeah. Her life was peachy keen.

* * *

_She's going to die. Oh, God, Lizzie, our daughter is going to die, murdered by creatures that logically shouldn't exist. _He could feel himself beginning to panic, even as his mind roared, _No! I am not going to watch her die! Not now that we've found each other! I refuse to lose her again!_

"Dad, calm down!" His daughter was on her knees in front of him. "I'm right here!"

He could barely hear what she was saying over the roaring in his ears. He couldn't lose her again. Logically, he could accept the idea that the things that Elizabeth fought were dangerous. While he still wasn't willing to admit that David Walker had been turned into a vampire, he had seen the way his friend had attacked them and Elizabeth. In any fight, there was a danger of injury or death – that was just realistic.

But emotionally…he couldn't cope with the idea that his daughter was going out at night and hunting creatures that could kill her. He'd just found her…was he going to have to say good-bye to her for real on the day he laid her to rest in the grave beside her mother? And when? Ten years from now? More? Less?

His daughter reached out and placed her hands on his cheek and turned his face so that he was looking into her eyes. He stared into those brilliant green orbs, seeing the regret for having to tell him the truth, the worry when he had started to panic…but worst of all was the acceptance. And somehow, he instinctively knew that she had accepted the fact that she walked into danger every time she went out on one of her hunts – she had accepted the fact that she was going to die.

It was a look he had only ever seen in the eyes of battle-hardened soldiers or people who had lived through a war. Magneto had had the same look in his eyes the first time they had met, but Magneto had lived through the Holocaust. It was not a look that he should be seeing in the eyes of an eighteen year old girl – a young woman who was only beginning her life. She shouldn't have to worry about dying at the whim of some supposed "higher beings" who didn't even give her a choice before throwing her into a dangerous world.

Her gentle touch as she stared worriedly at him broke through some of the panic, and he reached forward and seized her in a fierce hug, pulling her close and holding her with all the strength that he could muster. He was not going to lose her. If he could, he would pick her up and whisk her out of this town, back to New York, where she would be safe.

"I will not lose you, Elizabeth!" he managed to rasp hoarsely, his voice somewhat breathless.

"Ssh! Just calm down, Dad. I'm not in any danger right now," Buffy pleaded with him.

Giles had risen to his feet and walked back to the kitchen at the first sign of his distress. He came back with a glass tumbler and a bottle of brandy. "Doctor Xavier, you must try to calm down," Giles said calmly as he set the bottle and the tumbler down on the table beside the tea tray. "Buffy is safe, and she's not going to die."

Charles looked at his daughter desperately. She was completely calm at the moment, although worried, and her eyes were locked onto his. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut. He had never been prone to panic attacks, but the very idea of losing his daughter was enough to completely destroy his calm.

Of all the people in his life, only Lizzie and Elizabeth had been able to bring him to this level of fear and worry – and in that, his daughter _was_ like her mother. He cared too much about them – which was why he had tried to distance himself somewhat from his students. Losing Lizzie had nearly destroyed him, and when he had finally come out of his self-imposed exile to take the younger mutants into his home and teach them, he had sworn to himself that he would not let them into his heart – because he would never be able to tolerate losing them. It was for that reason that he worked so hard to maintain a rather cool façade when he was around them, while still allowing them to see that he was concerned for them. It was a delicate, difficult balance that he strove to maintain every single day – but it wasn't something he could do with his daughter.

* * *

"I'm all right, Dad," Buffy refused to break the hug with her father. She didn't care that it was brought on by panic and fear. It was proof that he genuinely cared about her. If he didn't, he would never respond this way, and it warmed her inside as it drove away some of her fears and worries about what he expected of her. It was also proof, at least a little, that he hadn't been lying about wanting to be involved in her life. She held him tighter, being careful not to use too much of her Slayer strength.

She only wanted to reassure him after all, not crush or suffocate him. As much as he didn't want to lose her, she didn't want to lose him either. And that made absolutely no sense. They barely knew each other, but she already felt closer to him that she had to any adult male in her life, with the exception of Giles. But she had never responded to Merrick or Wesley so quickly. The warm feeling she had for her father baffled her. She should be suspicious as hell about him, but she wasn't – and this time she was certain that he had not done anything to her to make her trust him. It was simply his quiet patience and persistence that was winning her over.

They still had a long way to go before she would be able to completely trust that he was sincere – and given his reaction to the _idea_ that she might die, she knew she definitely would not be telling him that she already _had_ once.

At least not for a good, long, while.

* * *

Charles felt like he couldn't breathe again as his daughter returned his embrace, but this time it wasn't worry or fear that stole his breath. It was the sensation of holding his daughter and feeling her respond positively. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world to him.

As he held his daughter, he felt himself beginning to calm down. The fear of her dying was still strong, but as she continued to hug and assure him that she was safe, he was able to get his breath back and to begin to think about things logically again.

_She's not in any danger at this moment – and I still don't know enough about what she fights to know just how serious the threat is,_ he told himself. _I need to hear her out and find out more before I panic._

He could have held his daughter all day and been completely content, but he still needed more information. So he finally, gently pulled away and felt her withdraw as well. As he sat back in his chair, she stayed kneeling on the ground in front of him. He reached out and took one of her hands, squeezing it gently and earning a small smile from her.

Giles poured a glass of brandy and handed it to him. Charles took it, eyeing it doubtfully. He wasn't much of a drinker, but when he did he preferred a good red wine, not anything stronger.

"Trust me, Doctor, it'll help," Giles said kindly. "The news that we're sharing with you tonight is enough to shock even the hardiest of people – and you've also had some rather interesting last few days."

Charles finally nodded and took a small drink of the brandy, feeling it burn slightly as he swallowed.

"Look, Dad," Buffy said softly. "I understand that you're worried about me, but I do know what I'm doing. I've been doing this for almost four years. I'm always careful when I'm hunting."

"Four years - ?" Charles was stunned. "You've been doing this since you were fourteen?"

"Fifteen," Buffy corrected. "I was Called about a month after my birthday."

Charles looked to Giles for an explanation. "Is the Slayer always called so young?"

"Not always as young as your daughter, but yes, she is always Chosen before her eighteenth birthday, but after she has gone through puberty," Giles said.

"But why?"

Giles shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't know. I don't agree with the idea, but I am simply a Watcher – well, a former Watcher – and I don't have any say in the matter. It has nothing to do with the Council. Whatever the reason for the Powers to choose girls so young, if anyone knows, it has not been made general knowledge to the Watchers."

Buffy looked at her father. "I've been doing this long enough that I know the score, Dad. I'm always careful, and I always try to have a plan before I go in. Sometimes I have to modify the plan on the fly, but I do have a plan."

Giles nodded in agreement. "Your daughter is very skilled, and very strong. The Slayer powers seem to run especially strong in her."

"Slayer powers?" Charles asked.

Giles nodded. "In order to be able to fight the forces of darkness, the Slayer has to have skills that will put her on the same level as the things that she hunts. All Slayers have increased strength and stamina, rapid healing, enhanced senses, and almost instant expertise with weapons and martial arts."

Charles frowned, his thoughts flashing to Wolverine. "And the Slayer must be a girl?"

Buffy nodded. "Always." She looked curiously at him. "Why?"

"Logan – the man who was with my students – has many of those same gifts," Charles replied. "His main gift is strictly passive – accelerated personal healing – but he also has increased senses and he is stronger than he looks. From what I've been able to determine into my research on mutants, which is still in progress, since the phenomenon is still fairly new, it isn't uncommon for a mutant to have one powerful gift and other weaker, but related gifts."

Giles shook his head. "All of those powers are things that every Slayer shares, Doctor Xavier. In addition, there have been Slayers who have had visions of the future, an aptitude for magic, or the ability to quickly learn languages. Up until now, however, there has never been a telepathic Slayer."

"Elizabeth is telepathic because I am," Charles countered. "She's my daughter, and she inherited my powers. One thing I am certain of is that the mutant gene is dominant, and given that fact it makes logical and scientific sense that she would inherit my powers as well."

"It's not the origin of her powers that interests me, it's the fact that I don't have the knowledge to train her in their use, because there has never been a telepathic Slayer before now," Giles explained.

"Whoa, we're getting a little off-track here," Buffy interjected, touching her father's hand again before he could say anything more. "Giles, right now I don't care about my new powers, so hush." She looked at her father. "Are you all right with the knowledge that I am a Slayer, Dad?"

Was he? That was the question. This was a strange new world that she was bringing him into, and he honestly didn't know what he should say or do. "I don't know, Elizabeth. What you're talking about – it's so dangerous. I know that according to the law you're an adult, but it doesn't stop me from wanting to protect you." He sighed. "The things that you've told me fly in the face of everything scientific. My entire life has been about studying science and finding logical ways to explain the world."

He paused to gather his thoughts. "Can I accept it? I don't know. You're asking me to change my entire view of the world based on very little evidence. I've been a scientist for too long to simply accept without questioning what I'm told." He looked closely at her. "I don't like the idea that you're in danger and could die, but I am a realist, and I know that I can't keep you protected from the world. I just don't know if I can accept it without compelling evidence."

His daughter looked equally serious. "I know this isn't fair to you, Dad. If I'd had any choice, I wouldn't have dumped all of this on you. This is my life. I will go out and fight, and now I have even more to fight for. I don't _want_ to die, so that gives me a reason to fight my hardest. But I also know that you didn't ask for this either. I'm sure you wanted a normal daughter, and that's what you were expecting to find."

"If by normal, you mean that you were not a mutant?" Charles asked. When she nodded, he shook his head. "I knew from the moment you were born that the odds were good that you would be a mutant. What your powers would be, and how strong they were – that I didn't know. But you're not abnormal, Elizabeth. You're still human; you're just different and gifted. And you're more gifted than I could even have imagined." He touched her cheek gently. "Give me some time, Elizabeth, and if possible, some more evidence. It's not that I doubt what you're telling me, I have just been a scientist too long to accept things on hearsay and face value."

"I can do that," she said with a small smile. "C'mon," she added as she rose to her feet. "We should probably head home – it's really late, and Mom's probably freaking out by now."

Charles placed his forgotten, half-drunk brandy on the table in front of him and nodded. He started for the door, but paused to listen as his daughter lingered to talk to her former Watcher.

"Giles, will you have something on the Ascension tomorrow?"

"I hope so, Buffy. From what I did get to read before we left the school, I think Willow's pages might give us a very good start on piecing all of this together, but I'll know more after I've taken a closer look at them in the morning. If you come by the library in the afternoon, I hope Wesley and I will have something."

"All right. Thanks, Giles." Buffy headed for the door and held it open for her father. Charles nodded to Giles and left the apartment. Buffy closed the door and then fell into step beside him as they headed back to her house.

* * *

_Buffy's house…the next morning…Sunday, May 9__th__, 1999…_

Charles was waiting downstairs for his daughter the next morning despite his exhaustion. It had been a late night, but he hadn't slept well because his sleep had been plagued by nightmares and worries about his daughter dying in various gruesome ways. That alone told him just how important she'd become to him in only a matter of days.

In the months immediately following Lizzie's death and her abduction – some of the darkest months of his life – he'd suffered through nightmare after nightmare of Lizzie dying in his arms, even though that wasn't the way it had happened, and of someone hurting or killing Elizabeth for an unknown reason. Over time, those nightmares had faded. He'd come to terms with Lizzie's death, although there were still a few days of the year when it was difficult to deal with what had happened, like their wedding anniversary, her birthday, and the day that she had died. But it was his daughter's fate that had plagued him the most. The simple uncertainty alone had caused the nightmares about her fate to last for much longer than the ones about Lizzie.

In time, however, those nightmares too had faded – especially once he had met Ororo and Logan and realized that he could help other young mutants like them learn to control their powers. His focus had shifted from his lost daughter to these new students. Teaching had been a passion for him before Elizabeth had disappeared, and thanks to Ororo and Logan, that passion had been reawakened. Working with them, and eventually with the rest of his students had allowed him to come to terms with what had happened to his daughter – it was what had allowed him to decide that it might be time to finally put a date on her headstone and to admit that he would probably never find her again.

Since he had opened his home up to his X-Men, there had only been one nightmare that had repeatedly haunted him in the last few years – the fear that mutants would not be accepted when their presence became known and the fear that someone would come to try to take his students away from him. Logan and Ororo were now his closest friends, and the X-Men could almost replace the daughter he had lost, so he had committed everything he had towards helping them.

Now, however, he had his daughter back, against all odds, and the new nightmare had invaded his thoughts. He suspected that part of it might be the bond that linked the two of them through their powers. When he had been linked to Lizzie, he had always had a strong sense of her, even when he wasn't actively using his telepathy. Had Elizabeth grown up in his home, linked to him for the last eighteen years, they would have been very close, even if her telepathic powers hadn't emerged until now. The type of bond that they shared was only made possible because telepathy was involved, but it could have happened even if she hadn't been telepathic. The fact that she was also a telepath only made the potential for the bond to be even stronger than if she hadn't been.

One thing that he did know was that their bond was helping them through the initial awkwardness of getting to know each other. The simple fact that Elizabeth was comfortable enough with him to call him "Dad" even in front of her friends and his students and to hold him the way she had the night before when they had hugged told him that much. But they had only recently linked, so there was still plenty of opportunity for the bond to strengthen further – how much remained to be seen.

He was very interested to work with her on improving their bond, to see just how closely they could link. If his suspicions about the strength of her telepathy were correct, they could probably strengthen the bond to an even stronger level than the one that he'd had with Lizzie. Of course, it would take time and practice, but in theory they could potentially be able to contact each other anywhere in the country without the use of Cerebro.

"Dad?"

Charles blinked, jarred from his thoughts at the sound of his daughter's voice. He had been waiting for her, but he hadn't heard her come down the stairs. Now she stood in front of him, already fully dressed for the day. He smiled at her. "Good morning, Elizabeth."

"Morning. What are you doing down here so early? I expected you to still be asleep after last night. We didn't get in until almost two."

"It's not the first time that I've been out late and had to be up early, my dear," Charles replied. "I could say the same for you."

She shrugged. "I don't need much sleep since I became the Slayer. Four or five hours is my usual most nights."

"I see."

"Dad…" Now his daughter looked somewhat uneasy. "Would you mind if we just had a chance to sit and talk today? Not about my being a Slayer, or mutants – just to get to know each other?"

Her hesitant, sincere request made him smile – a warm, genuine smile. "There is nothing I would enjoy more, Elizabeth."

She returned his smile. "Did you have breakfast yet?"

"No, not yet."

"I'm not much of a cook, but I could probably manage toast or a bagel and some tea," she offered.

"That sounds fine, Elizabeth."

"Okay." She turned and headed into the kitchen, and he followed her, eager to simply share a quiet meal with her and to get to know more about her.

* * *

_Bayville, New York…_

Ororo dried the last plate and slipped it into the cupboard with the rest. She turned to look at Logan, who had paused as he put away the last of the leftover breakfast to watch something on the news.

"…_police are still looking for the man in this picture. He's described as five feet ten, weighing approximately one hundred ninety pounds, with dark brown hair, goatee, and brown eyes. If anyone has any information regarding this man, please contact your local police station immediately."_

"What was that about?" Ororo asked.

"Eh, bank robber," Logan. "Thought it might have something to do with a mutant, but it sounds like a run-of-the-mill thing." He put the orange juice in the refrigerator and closed the door.

"Well, are you ready to get back to our research on Sunnydale? With luck the Professor will call us later today, and I'd like to have something more to share with him."

"Yeah, and I thought of something that I wanted to check last night when I was in the Danger Room," Logan said. "Chuck's kid said somethin' about people dyin' every day in that town."

"The death rates and crime statistics?" Ororo asked, understanding where Logan was going.

Logan nodded. "Might explain why there are so many cemeteries in that town, and why it seemed so quiet on the streets. I also want to look into that Mayor. The Prof said the guy abducted him. I want to know why."

"I agree. I'll look into the Mayor and the town's history some more, if you want to start pulling together those crime rates," Ororo offered as they walked down the hallway towards the Professor's study. While there were plenty of computers in the mansion, they had decided to use Cerebro when Charles had asked them to do this research.

While the telepathic amplifier part of Cerebro could only be operated by the Professor or another telepath, the main part of Cerebro was simply a very advanced, very fast supercomputer. In fact, Cerebro was one of the most powerful computers in the world. The system had been designed by the Professor to not only continually run the world-wide search for new mutants, but to have the ability to access any information that the Professor might need almost instantly.

Logan grunted as he closed the door of the Professor's study. The students had been given the morning free since it was a Sunday, but they would have a training session in the afternoon. In the meantime, the free morning meant that the students would be occupied, which would give the two of them a chance to get some more of the research done.

Ororo quickly typed in a search for Sunnydale's Mayor and a history of the town. As the results started to pop up, she transferred them over to a small screen off to the side so that Logan would have access to the search window. To her surprise, there were quite a few hits. Granted, most of them seemed to be from the local Sunnydale paper, but there were a few outside source hits.

Logan growled softly as he started running his own search. "I hate doing research."

Ororo had to stifle a smile, which Logan would not take well if he noticed it. His surliness regarding research and academic matters was well-known by the entire team, which was why he was in charge of all of the physical and combat training that they gave the X-Men. Ororo and Charles handled the academic side of the school. In this case, the best thing she could do was not comment. It was always wisest just to let Wolverine vent when he was grumpy.

She focused her attention back on the articles that had been pulled. Most of them had hit on Cerebro because they mentioned a quote from the Mayor, or he was mentioned in some way, although there were a few that focused directly on him. One of the most interesting ones was an interview about the steps being taken in the murder of the Deputy Mayor, Allan Finch. The second article seemed to involve a pledge that he had made to the Sunnydale community after two small children were found dead on a playground.

There were a few more hits regarding his policies and campaign promises, and Ororo had a sense that either the newspapers really didn't know the man – who was described as a moderate, sometimes leaning liberal, but just as often leaning conservatively – or his sudden shift to abducting the Professor was a relatively new development that was completely out of character for the man. It would be hard to say for sure until she had a chance to talk to the Professor about what the Mayor had said to him during the day and a half that he had been missing.

Logan growled again, jarring her out of her reading. "This makes no sense!" He pounded his fist on his knee in frustration.

"Logan? What is it?" she asked, moving away from her own monitor to look at Logan's screen. "Did you find the death and crime statistics?"

"I found 'em, but I don't buy it," he replied. "I even compared them to Bayville's and they don't make any sense unless I am readin' this wrong. Look here," he pointed at the right hand side of the screen. "Bayville, last year: out of the three major violent crime rates, the largest one was aggravated assault, and it was less than half a percent of the total crimes reported in the city. Rape was the next largest, and it doesn't even crack a tenth of one percent, and murder barely cracked one-one hundredth, and that's in a town of about thirty-five to forty thousand people."

"Bayville is a relatively safe town," Ororo said. "We all knew that."

"Right, but now look at the ones coming in from Sunnydale, which is about the same size. Aggravated assault: almost ten percent, rape, well, that's about the same as Bayville, but murder? According to these stats, it's almost forty percent of the total violent crime rates, and kidnapping / missing persons is another thirty percent," Logan said. "There seems to be relatively little in the way of property crime, but robbery takes up the last twenty percent or so."

Ororo studied the data and realized that he was right. "But you can't get any more specific numbers than this?"

Logan shook his head. "Nope, but there is still something seriously wrong here. If these numbers are accurate, Sunnydale has anywhere between a three hundred to four hundred percent higher crime rate than Bayville."

"If that's the case, it would have to have the highest crime rate in the country," Ororo commented.

"Yeah, and I don't like it." He sent the data to the printer, and then stood up abruptly. "I'll be back later. There's a guy I know who might be able to shed some light on this." He grabbed the page off of the printer. "I'm gonna see if I can get in touch with him. It shouldn't take long."

Ororo watched him leave, and then turned to look at the screen with the statistics that Logan had found. If these figures were right, then Charles' daughter hadn't been lying about Sunnydale being a violent town. But if that was the case, why hadn't they seen any sign of this level of activity on the streets? What was going on in this little town?

* * *

_Buffy's House…early Sunday afternoon…_

Joyce unlocked the front door and stepped inside her house. She could hear her daughter's voice coming from the kitchen as she put her purse on the table and closed the door.

"Cheerleading was just my niche at Hemery. I liked being part of a team, and I liked being popular. I was never comfortable being on one of the women's sports teams, like softball or soccer, but cheering was fun. Up until I was Called anyway."

Joyce paused to listen as she heard Dr. Xavier's reply. "I know the feeling, my dear. When I was your age, before I was paralyzed, I played football and ran on the track team. Being part of a team is a very good feeling."

Joyce still had mixed feelings regarding the mysterious professor who claimed to be Buffy's father. When he had first shown up just to offer her a place at his school, she'd been cautious but hopeful. More than anything, she wanted her daughter to get away from Sunnydale. She still felt guilty about bringing them here after Buffy had been expelled. Maybe if she'd picked a different town, they could have left the Slayer nonsense behind.

But they hadn't, and now it seemed that Buffy was stuck in Sunnydale. The fact that she'd gotten accepted into Northwestern was amazing to Joyce. She had thought for sure that Buffy would want to head out there, but for some reason, she was resisting. Joyce had thought that with Faith in Sunnydale, Buffy would be free to leave, but she hadn't seen Faith for almost a month, and Buffy hadn't talked about the other Slayer in months.

Then, out of the blue, Doctor Xavier showed up and again, Buffy was resistant to the idea of leaving Sunnydale, which Joyce didn't understand. The next thing she knew, he was convincing Buffy that he was her father, persuading her to have a DNA test done, informing her that her memories had been tampered with…it just didn't make any sense.

How could Buffy _not_ be her daughter? Joyce remembered giving birth to her, remembered the day they brought her home from the hospital, remembered every moment of raising and loving her. Buffy had been sweet and precious growing up – a true joy to raise. The only real time that things had been tense were during the months in Los Angeles when she was starting fights and getting into trouble in school – the same time the Slaying had begun. Then she had been expelled, and they had moved to Sunnydale, and Joyce had hoped for a new start.

But the Slaying – and the troubles that had plagued Buffy at Hemery – followed them. Of course, she now understood that those troubles came as a direct result of the Slaying. When Buffy was consumed by something happening with her duty – a particularly evil monster, her grades suffered. She was considered strange by her classmates because of her ability to always show up where there was trouble, and because she was so much stronger than the rest of her peers, and yet she didn't look it.

And yet, Joyce was sure that if Buffy could just get away from Sunnydale, she could leave the Slaying behind her. Her daughter could have a normal life. That was the reason that she had been pushing her to consider Northwestern. And now, she had another choice – her father's school.

Joyce still didn't know what to think or believe in regards to this Charles Xavier. He _seemed_ to care for her daughter, and yet he himself admitted to being a powerful enough telepath to alter memories. It had taken her the last couple of days before she really realized that. How did she know that he hadn't done anything to Buffy to make her believe that he was her father, so that he could replace the child that he had lost? Could she simply take his word that her memories had been tampered with? And if she did consent to allowing him to try to unlock those so-called "buried" memories, how could she possibly know that he wasn't altering her memories further? She knew nothing about the man.

Shaking her head, she headed into the kitchen to see Buffy perched on the island, looking down at the Professor, who was seated in his wheelchair next to her. They both seemed much more at ease with each other than they had been just that morning when she'd left for work. She didn't normally work on a Sunday, but she had a new show beginning in three days and she'd needed to do a final inventory of the displays and do some tidying up so that on Tuesday night they would be able to set everything up for the opening on Wednesday.

She walked over to Buffy and kissed her on the top of her head. "Hello sweetheart."

"Hi, Mom. Did you get the inventory done?" Buffy asked.

"Almost. I just came home for lunch, and then I'll probably have to go in for another hour or two," Joyce replied. "Doctor Xavier, are you doing well today?"

"Mrs. Summers, please call me Charles. I don't believe that there is any need for us to be so formal," he told her. "I'm quite well today."

Joyce nodded in agreement. "Very well, then you may call me Joyce." She looked between her daughter and their guest. "What have you two been up to?"

"Talking," Buffy said. "Just getting to know each other. I was telling Dad about Hemery – you know about being the Fiesta Princess, and being on the cheerleading squad before I was Called, and he was telling me some of his school stories, about being on the football team and the track team."

"I see." Suddenly uncomfortable and feeling as if she was intruding on something, she moved to the cupboards. "Have either of you had lunch yet? I have some leftover chicken from the other night, and I could make a quick chicken and vegetable soup."

"We haven't eaten since breakfast, Mom. We came in here to start making something, but we got distracted." Buffy hopped off of the counter. "Is there something we can do to help?"

"You could chop up some carrots and celery if you want, dear," Joyce said as she pulled out a can of chicken broth, the leftover chicken, and a bag of uncooked pasta. Reaching into another cupboard, she pulled out a stack of bowls and small plates and handed them to the professor before he could volunteer. "And Charles, if you'd like to set the table that would be a great help."

"Certainly, Joyce," he replied, taking the bowls from her. Balancing them with one hand, he used his other hand to navigate out of the kitchen and into the dining room.

Joyce set to work on the soup, staying quiet as she concentrated on boiling the pasta and the chicken together. Buffy was equally quiet as she chopped up the vegetables on the island's built in cutting board. She didn't know what to say to her daughter. It was obvious that Buffy was beginning to bond with Charles, and Joyce was desperately afraid that when he returned to New York, he'd take Buffy with him and she'd never see her daughter again. It was an illogical fear, but sending her daughter with him when he had just been advertising his school wasn't the same thing as seeing a man claiming his daughter and whisking her away to what they both might consider her real home. Joyce knew that Buffy hated living in Sunnydale. She hated the danger, and the need to constantly be on her guard so that she could protect people. Surely Bayville couldn't have that many vampires – why wouldn't her daughter want to go somewhere where she could be normal, where she would be cared for and loved?

"Look, Mom," Buffy suddenly said as she dumped the vegetables into the boiling soup. "I love you. You will always be Mom to me, but…now I know that Professor Xavier is my dad. I want to get to know him too. It doesn't mean I love you any less."

Joyce was startled at the way her daughter so accurately pinpointed her feelings. "How did - ?"

"You've been acting weird ever since you found out, Mom. Even I could see that you're not happy with the situation. I'm sorry I didn't talk to you about the test. I didn't believe you were lying to me, and I was certain that Dad was just making it all up. I didn't want to upset you when he turned out to be wrong – but then he ended up being right, and I had to know if you knew anything about it. Even if you had just adopted me and didn't tell me, I needed to know." Buffy faced her mother, her green eyes showing regret.

"Buffy, I've never lied to you in my life. If you had been adopted, I would have told you," Joyce said softly.

"I know that. But what if Dad's right and something has been done to your memories?" Buffy asked. "Don't you want to know the truth too?"

"How do you know that he isn't the one who's doing all of this to us?" Joyce asked. "If he's desperate enough to try to find his long lost daughter and you look enough like her to pass…"

Buffy shook her head firmly. "He wouldn't do that Mom. I know it. He's too honest."

"Sweetheart, he admitted that he had the ability to alter memories. I don't understand much of it, but couldn't he have done something to you to make you trust him?"

"I was wondering about that too, Mom…but I've been hurt, I've been betrayed too many times by people I trusted. I think that if he had been trying to do anything to me, I would have known, and he hasn't. He knows about my being the Slayer now, and he still wants to be part of my life. If he was doing something to make me trust him, why would he want to have me for a daughter when I'm going out every night and trying to get myself killed?"

"Buffy!"

* * *

The tension in the kitchen when Joyce walked in quickly became palpable. Charles had been having a wonderful time talking to his daughter and getting to know her. They'd discussed their favorite kinds of music – Elizabeth preferring the modern rock and roll and pop styles, while he preferred classical and operatic pieces. They'd talked about movies and television shows, their favorite leisure activities, school…anything that they could think of. Almost by mutual unspoken consent, they'd avoided topics such as family, painful memories, or discussion of Lizzie. There had been no discussion of mutants, or of Buffy being the Slayer. Both of them knew that there would be plenty of time to talk about those things. This was simply about beginning to build a solid relationship with each other and to start to talk about likes or dislikes.

They had been discussing their respective times being a member of a team when Joyce had come in. She'd offered to make lunch and when Elizabeth had started to help with the soup, Charles had sensed that they needed to be alone for a little while, so he had taken the dishes that Joyce had handed him and moved out into the dining room without saying anything.

Of course, it didn't prevent him from overhearing what they were saying, since they were only a few feet away from him as he moved around the table. Joyce's suspicions about him didn't come as a surprise. He had more than half-expected it, which was one reason why he'd been so upfront with her about his ability to manipulate memories. She couldn't know that he _never_ did so unless there was no other choice, but until he had more evidence and understanding about why Elizabeth had been kidnapped, he didn't want to be involved in an awkward situation with the woman who had raised her. He didn't want Elizabeth to have to be forced to choose between them.

Of course, if it did turn out that Joyce knew more than he had been able to sense in her memories, and she _had_ been involved in Elizabeth's abduction, they would have issues, and he would do everything in his power to see that she was brought to justice. But until that time, he wanted to remain friendly with her for Elizabeth's sake.

Hearing his daughter defend him, and her verbal belief that he was honest and wouldn't lie to them was almost as warming as her hug from the previous night. They were beginning to forge a relationship, even if it wasn't as deep as he would have liked, she was beginning to trust him – and that, he was certain, had to do with the bond between them.

The bond he'd held with Lizzie had not only allowed him to sense her wherever she was, it had allowed both of them to be able to read each other on a deeper level, emotionally. It was an odd result for a bond that should have been purely telepathic, but the bond had given both of them an ease in each other's company that Charles hadn't known before they had bonded. In fact, he almost didn't really remember at what point he'd realized that they were bonded, because he'd become so comfortable around Lizzie. It had definitely been before they married, but the exact moment that the bond had formed? He couldn't even begin to decide. As far as he knew, Lizzie hadn't even realized that they had been bonded. He had told her about his telepathic powers after they were married, and she had accepted it just like she'd accepted everything – with grace, and love.

With Elizabeth it had been different – they were both telepaths, and a bond like that could not be ignored. Elizabeth was still new to her powers, but the bond was present and they would both be able to sense it at all times. Despite what he'd told her, he didn't believe that the bond would ever go away, or even weaken to the point as to be imperceptible. As her powers strengthened and her control improved, the bond would naturally strengthen as well, even if they never used it. But whether or not that would come to pass remained to be seen.

"…he still wants to be part of my life. If he was doing something to make me trust him, why would he want to have me for a daughter when I'm going out every night and trying to get myself killed?"

"Buffy!" Joyce's voice was pained. "Don't talk like that!"

"Oh, come on Mom. You know what I do is dangerous. Tell me something, could Hank have ever accepted all of this?"

Charles frowned as he listened to the two women talking. He still didn't like the idea of his daughter dying, but at the moment he was more interested in the man who had raised her. Why would Elizabeth bring him up now?

"I don't know, Buffy."

"Be honest, Mom. I tried to tell you both after Hemery and what happened? He freaked out and thought I was crazy. So did you, last year. But what did Hank do? He was the one who had me sent to that asylum. You, at least, have never tried to do that. And now, Doctor Xavier knows the truth, and he hasn't even once said anything about my being crazy. If he thinks it, he's not showing it. He's trying to understand, and trying to accept. That's more than Hank would ever have done and you know it."

Charles moved his chair back into the kitchen. Part of him was saying that he should stay out of this, but the other part didn't want to see his daughter alienated from Joyce because of harsh words. Elizabeth wouldn't ever know Lizzie, but she had known a mother's love, and Charles didn't want her to lose that. He stopped in the doorway and looked at them. "Is there a problem?"

* * *

Buffy glanced over at her father before she looked back at her mother. She was trying to understand her mother's point of view, and to be honest, she had shared some of her mother's doubts and suspicions. As she'd said, she'd been betrayed too many times by people to trust easily, and she truly didn't understand why she was trusting her father so quickly.

But at the same time, she didn't want her mother to believe that she didn't care about her anymore. Her mother had never lied to her, and had always cared about her. They'd had two rough patches, one when she'd been placed in the asylum by Hank, and one when her mom had found out about the Slaying last year. But once they'd gotten past those rough patches, everything had been normal, loving, and caring between them.

That was the main reason why she'd chosen to go with Joyce after the divorce. Her mother had been opposed to the idea of putting her into the asylum, but Hank had insisted, believing that she needed help. Joyce had been afraid that their fights and the divorce proceedings was what had led up to her so-called break from reality, so she hadn't objected when Hank had wanted to get her treatment for her "condition". But during the time she'd been there, Hank had never contacted her, and he hadn't fought for custody.

Up until the night of the dance at Hemery, she'd had a good relationship with the man she'd believed was her father, but she had realized during those months when she was locked up that the relationship wasn't what it should have been. Hank had always been more distant from her than her mother. Of the two of them, he'd been the one who'd had more difficulty taking her to ice skating or cheerleading practices. The only real ritual they'd had was the ice show on her birthday every year, but for the last two years he hadn't been there. Both times he'd chosen to work rather than to be with her, and the last time she'd seen him had been the summer after the Master had killed her. Their court-mandated visits had tapered off in the last two years. It was almost as if he'd decided that now that she was almost twenty, he didn't need to continue with such childish rituals. The fact that he couldn't even call her himself to tell her why he couldn't make it to the ice shows told her that he didn't really care.

At first, it had made her wonder if one of her fears – that she'd been the reason that they had gotten divorced – had been true. But her mother had assured her that wasn't the case, and now it simply seemed that he had better things to do than be with her.

Now, here was Doctor Xavier, her birth father. He'd been looking for her for eighteen years, and he hadn't once pulled back from being away from her. If anything, it seemed that he was trying to get to know her as quickly as possible and to do everything to be with her that he could. She still didn't know if he could be trusted, but as she had observed the night before, a man who wanted to be with his daughter and who loved her would've reacted exactly the way he had when he learned just how dangerous her life was.

She looked back at her father. "No, Dad. Everything's all right."

He shook his head. "Everything's not all right, Elizabeth." He looked over at her mother. "Joyce, I'm sorry if my presence makes you uncomfortable. I would be happy to stay in a hotel while I'm in Sunnydale."

"You can't, Dad," Buffy said. "The safest place in the world is inside a private residence. A vampire cannot enter a private home without an invitation from someone who lives there. In a hotel you'd be vulnerable."

Charles frowned at that information. What could possibly prevent an undead creature from entering a home? He couldn't see how it could be stopped, because he had a suspicion that his daughter wasn't talking about security systems and video cameras.

Joyce picked up a pot holder before she turned away and pulled the pot of soup off of the stove. She didn't say a word as she carried it towards the dining room. Charles backed out of the way as she approached so that he wasn't blocking the door, and watched silently as she dished up the soup. Buffy came in carrying drinks, and moved one chair out of the way so that her father could get his chair beneath the table.

They sat down in silence to eat. Buffy didn't know what to say. The comfort level that she'd had with her father just a few minutes ago when they'd simply been talking had been completely eroded by her mother's presence. She understood that it had to be hard for her mother to adjust to the idea that she wasn't her daughter, but she didn't know how to fix it. She wanted to get to know her father, but she didn't want her mother to be upset either.

What was she going to do?

* * *

_Bayville…_

"It's about time I got a hold of you. You're one hard man to contact, you know that?"

"_I live to frustrate you, Logan. It's a moment of pleasure in an otherwise dull existence."_

Logan scoffed. "Yeah, right. You love your work, and don't tell me different."

"_You'll never hear that from me, but you're welcome to whatever illusions or theories you want. So why were you trying so hard to reach me?"_

"I need a favor. Some information that would hopefully make some sort of sense."

His contact chuckled. _"So, the great Logan has finally decided to come begging."_

"I _don't_ beg for nuthin'," Logan corrected. "I'm _askin_'. There's a difference. A big one."

"_Let's say I agree to do this…favor. What sort of information are you looking for?"_

"A little place in California, called Sunnydale. We – I'm interested in it, and when I did some checking, I noticed that the death and crime rates were way off base for a town that size. I was hopin' you could clarify some of the details for me."

"_It's nice of you to cover for Professor Xavier, Logan. But don't pretend that you're in this alone. I know where your allegiance lies these days."_

Logan snarled. "Is that a threat?"

"_No. Just an observation. Although, if I remember correctly, you still owe me a favor or two."_

"Don't give me that," Logan growled into the pay phone. "I don't owe you jack and you know it. If anything, you owe me."

"_Hmm…I don't recall it that way, and I'm not the one with a faulty memory."_

"Damn it, can you just get me the information?"

"_You know there are channels that you have to go through, Logan,"_ his contact's voice was amused.

"And you know as well as I do that if I did, all I'd get is the run around from your boys and draw attention to myself. I was hoping that you could smooth some of that over for me."

Another laugh. "_You never did have a lot of patience, Logan._" There was silence for a moment, but Logan's keen hearing could detect the sound of keys tapping. _"Hmm…interesting little town you've found here." _More typing. _"Yeah, I can get your information if you give me a day or so. But what's your interest in it?"_

"Personal."

"_I'll send it to Professor Xavier's email address, shall I? I assume that you'll be able to retrieve the information from there?"_

"Yeah."

"_All right, but you do know that you'll owe me one at a later date…and I will collect."_

"Yeah, yeah. You always do."

"_I'll be in touch."_

_**The crime rate data for Bayville is the real information from 1999, which I looked up on the internet. I fudged the Sunnydale data, since obviously Sunnydale doesn't really exist. Don't forget to send me a review!**_


	41. Chapter 40: Irrationality versus belief

_******Well, since the last chapter was somewhat scant on reviews (and thank you to all the wonderful people who did leave me one) I guess this is the time where I beg profusely for more reviews on this new chapter. *gets down on her knees* Pretty, pretty please, leave me a review! And don't forget to wander over to the new first story in this series, called Saying Goodbye, and leave me a review there too!**_

Oh, and the part about Storm providing electrical power for Cerebro comes from the actual comic book edition of X-Men:Evolution. They had a wonderful back story for how Charles met Storm and Logan that I am planning on using. Too bad it was only nine issues!  


_**Chapter Forty: Irrationality versus belief**_

_"The irrationality of a thing is not an argument against its existence, rather, a condition of it."_

_-_ _Friedrich Nietzsche_

_Sunnydale High School library…Sunday afternoon, May 9__th__, 1999…_

"Giles?" Buffy called as she pushed open the library doors and held them open for her father. "Are you here?"

She waited until her father's chair had cleared the doors before she allowed them to swing shut. After the uncomfortable lunch with her mom, she'd quietly cleaned up the kitchen while Joyce went back to work. Then she'd told her dad that she had to go to the library to talk to Giles about the pages that Willow had retrieved the night before, and he'd insisted on coming along.

"_Dad, you really don't have to. Giles and I can handle it in a few minutes, and then we can continue our discussion when we get back."_

"_You're my daughter, Elizabeth. I want to spend as much time with you as possible. I may not understand or completely believe in your world, but the Mayor pulled me into it and I __**am**__ involved now."_

"_I get that you know now Dad, but you can still back out. I wasn't kidding last night when I said this was dangerous…forget dangerous, it's über-dangerous. Are you sure you want to be a part of this?"_

"_Life is dangerous, my dear. It is entirely possible that being a mutant could be dangerous once word of our existence is made public. I am willing to take that chance, as are my students, because we want to prove we can co-exist with normal humans, but there will likely be violence and persecution at first. Now that I am aware of your world, should I withdraw from my beliefs and treat it any differently from my own?"_

No, he shouldn't. And it was that sincerity in his voice that convinced her that he was willing to accept the risk, even if he didn't understand it completely. But in time, once he came to truly believe in what she was telling him, he would learn.

In the meantime, however… "Giles?" she called again.

The former Watcher emerged from the stacks at the back of the library. He seemed surprised to see them. "Buffy? Is it afternoon already?"

She smiled. The question was classic Giles when he was deep in research-mode. "Yeah, and I figured that you would have forgotten to eat again, so I brought you some of the soup we had for lunch." She held up the plastic container that she carried in one hand.

"Oh! Thank you, Buffy."

"No problem. It's chicken, vegetables, and noodles."

Giles came down the stairs and took it from her before he turned to Charles. "Good day, Doctor."

"Hello, Mr. Giles," Charles shook the man's offered hand. He still wasn't sure how to react to his daughter's mentor. Despite what she'd told him about how she became the Slayer, part of him didn't still wonder if the former Watcher knew more about how the Slayer was "chosen" than he'd said.

Buffy headed back over to the table where the pages that Willow had stolen were spread out, along with books that were stacked four and five high. "Have you got anything yet?"

"Well, I do believe that Willow's pages will be of use, although I have to agree with her in that they are very over-written. It will take me some time to decipher them completely."

"What _do_ you have?" Buffy asked as she picked up one of the books. Idly she flipped it open although she recognized it as The Black Chronicles, one that they used quite often in their research. She flipped through it for a moment before she set it back down on the stack.

"Erm…well, what I've uncovered thus far, Ascension seems to mean that a human takes on the powers of a demon. What the extent of those powers is, and which demon it might be, I am still uncertain. I do know that it is not something that can be rushed. It takes many years of performing the right rituals at the right time in order to achieve Ascension. The Mayor has been planning this for a very long time."

Buffy frowned. "Why would he want demon powers? I remember that demon telepathy, and it sucked. Who'd volunteer for something like that?"

"_Demon_ telepathy?" Charles asked. "What is demon telepathy?" _And how does it differ from mine?_ he wondered to himself.

His daughter shuddered as if the question bothered her. "An experience I never, ever want to repeat."

Confused, Charles looked at Mr. Giles for an explanation. The ex-Watcher removed his glasses and began polishing them. "A few weeks ago, Buffy was chasing a pair of demons. She killed one, but accidentally came into contact with its blood. Demon blood is sometimes known to cause someone who comes into contact with it to gain an aspect of the demon. In this case, that particular species was telepathic, and when some of its blood was absorbed into Buffy's skin, the blood granted an enforced, uncontrollable form of telepathy."

"Ah." He understood now. Being a new telepath could be frightening. He remembered all too well how it had felt when his powers had first been emerging, until he had realized what was happening.

"_Ah, Charles. How was your day today?" his stepfather asked kindly as he sat down to eat with him._

"_It was fine, sir." Charles glanced around. "Where is mother?"_

"_I'm afraid that she isn't feeling well today. She had a headache and wanted to lie down," Kurt said._

_Charles frowned slightly at an odd tingling and pressure in his mind. "Oh. Is she all right?"_

"_She's fine, Charles. If you want to go and check on her after dinner and bring her a tray, you may."_

"_Thank you, I think I will," Charles replied as he started to eat._

_A few moments later, his stepbrother walked into the dining room. "Sorry I'm late. I was packing," Cain said. The maid put a plate full of food in front of him as he sat down, but Charles couldn't help but notice that his stepbrother looked angry about something and was pushing the food around on his plate._

"_Where are you going?" Charles asked._

"_What's it to you?" Cain snapped. After a moment, he winced. "Err…boarding school."_

"_But you just got here!" Charles said in surprise. His stepfather and his stepbrother had only moved in about two weeks ago, after the wedding._

"_Yeah. Oh, sorry about before, Charles." He was referring to earlier when he'd been a bit of a bully to his younger stepbrother._

"_It's all right. How long will you be gone?" The pressure in his head was growing, as if something was trying to break free. It was such a strange feeling. He'd never really had a lot of headaches before, but lately he'd been having them with increased frequency and severity. The doctor said it was migraines, and that although it was unusual for someone his age to be afflicted, it wasn't unheard of. Charles rubbed his right eye with the heel of his hand in an unsuccessful effort to relieve some of the pressure._

"_Until the holidays, probably," Cain said quietly._

"_He'll be back before you know it," Kurt said, patting Charles' shoulder. "It's a good school, and this way there's less of a burden on your mother."_

"_Isn't my mother getting well?" Charles asked, alarmed. Ever since his father's death, his mother had not been doing well, and he didn't understand why. Kurt Marko had convinced her that she would be fine, and that in the meantime, her son needed a father until she was back on her feet._

"_Why sure. She's getting better all the time," his stepfather assured him._

_Charles nodded and looked over at his stepbrother. He met Cain's gaze, and something seemed to snap inside his head. Cain's voice seemed to echo in every corner of his brain, painfully loud._

_**Spoiled little brat. It's your fault Dad's sending me away! He wants your old man's money, and he doesn't want me around to mess up his plans while he works on your mother. She won't last long, and he needs to convince her to sign your money over to him so that he can 'take care of you'.**_

"_Ah!" Charles cried as his head seemed to split open with pain. "No!" Doubling over, he clutched his head in his hands as tears leaked out. What was happening to him?_

"_It's all right, Charles," his stepfather was on his feet, standing behind him, and his large hands resting on his shoulders. But his stepfather's touch sent a startling image through Charles' mind right in the wake of Cain's voice. It was his mother, Sharon. He could see her as clearly as he could see his stepfather and his stepbrother, and she wasn't fine. She was extremely pale and ill looking, and seemed to be growing worse each second._

"_I can see her. She's very ill!"_

"_There, there. You're imagining things. Your mom is fine," Kurt assured him. He turned to look at the maid standing in the doorway. "Charles is having one of his headaches. Take him to bed and give him a hot pack and his medicine. I'll call the doctor if it doesn't ease in a few hours."_

That had been the first time that his telepathy had emerged. That first time had been the most painful, but it had continued to happen – with his teachers, his classmates, his mother and stepfather – and at first he'd been unable to control when or where it happened. With time, however, it had become less and less painful, and soon it felt completely natural. Over the next few years, he had learned not only how to overhear thoughts, but how to do other things – his astral projections, psychic blasts, telepathic probes, and he had gained his ability to influence the minds of others and to create and purge memories. As his scientific knowledge and his understanding of the mind and its psychology increased, he was able to experiment with more ways to use his powers, until he had them under complete control. Now, _not_ having his powers would be more frightening and unnatural than having them was.

Bringing his thoughts back to his daughter, he asked another question, still trying to understand everything. "And Elizabeth went through this demon telepathy?"

Buffy shuddered again. "Worst two days of my life…" She paused as she thought about that. "Then again…never mind. I'll take demon telepathy over everything that happened last year. Last year sucked."

Charles frowned, wondering about that, but knowing that she probably wouldn't explain if he asked. If she had been Slaying for four years, she probably had quite a few dark or painful memories that she wasn't willing to share yet. In the meantime, he still wanted to understand this 'demon telepathy' she was speaking of. "But you are a telepath, Elizabeth. I don't see how any outside source could have overwhelmed your own powers. Even untrained, your powers and your own mind should have resisted the intrusion…"

"I didn't have telepathic powers before the demon telepathy," she corrected him.

"Your powers might not have been active," Charles countered. "But they were there, nonetheless. They're written into your genetic code. The very encroachment of the outside force, if you were under enough stress, should have been enough to awaken them."

Giles cleared his throat. "I have a theory about that, although it would take a great deal more evidence to prove it."

Both of them turned to look at him. "What do you mean, Giles?" Buffy asked. She knew her Watcher was smart, and he had been researching telepathy for a few weeks now…maybe he had learned something her father didn't know.

"We've never had a telepathic Slayer before, Buffy. Therefore, I can only surmise that, had you not been Chosen, your telepathic powers would have awoken much earlier. Most of your father's students looked to be several years younger than you."

Charles nodded. "With the exception of Logan and Ororo, Scott and Jean are the oldest, at sixteen. The others are all between the ages of thirteen and fifteen. From what I've been able to tell, mutant powers tend to emerge at puberty. Mine emerged somewhat earlier, but that could also have been a side effect of my father's nuclear research – the same research that I believe caused me to go bald in high school."

"And Buffy is eighteen," Giles said. "It is possible that something about being Called as the Slayer, or perhaps the Slayer powers themselves, suppressed your natural telepathy, Buffy. But when the demon telepathy was forced upon her, and then we cured it, it had the odd effect of unlocking her natural powers. The limited research that I've been able to do on the phenomenon of telepathy and psychic gifts indicated that once a psychic channel has been unlocked, it can never been closed away, but that an outside force could suppress it _before_ it's unlocked."

He turned to the table and picked up one of the pages from the Book of Ascension. "Of course, right now that's not the important part of this conversation. The important part is that the Mayor will not be gaining something as simple as demon telepathy. There are thousands of demonic species, and they all have unique powers and abilities."

"So what's the plan?" Buffy asked.

"I am going to work the rest of the day on deciphering these pages. Tomorrow, I'd like for Wesley, Willow, and Xander to help us start going through the demon species. The Mayor must have a list of powers that he would like to obtain, and we need to see if we can figure out what they might be."

"Okay," Buffy said. "The Mayor is after power, and he's evil, so he'd be looking for the biggest, baddest species around, wouldn't he?"

"Most likely. And given what we know about him, I believe that we can immediately eliminate the balance demons and the weaker species that don't have immediately useful or strong powers," Giles agreed. "We'll check, just to be sure, since some of the balance demons may have exceptionally strong abilities that could be dangerous if used for evil, but I believe the Mayor will look for the most evil, most destructive powers."

Buffy nodded, and then grinned at the look on her father's face. "This is pretty much the regular routine in the glamorous world of vampire Slayage. It's hard to believe how many old, dusty books have been written about demons. New problem comes up, we research, I Slay, we party."

Charles winced slightly at his daughter's butchered use of the English language, but didn't comment on it. "People actually write books about demons that aren't fantasy novels?"

"Professor, most of these books are hundreds, if not thousands of years old," Giles said. "The Watcher's Council has been collecting and studying them from the very beginning. Many of the Watchers of the past have contributed to the tomes."

Charles was still somewhat skeptical. "You have books here, in a public school library, which are thousands of years old and should be in a museum?"

"Of course. Who would look for them here?" Giles asked.

"What about the other students? Don't they come in to check out books or do research?"

Buffy laughed. "I bet that's what you did, right?" When her father nodded, she laughed again. "A lot of things have changed Dad. Most of my classmates don't even know what the word 'research' means. The Scoobies and I usually have the library to ourselves. I mean, every so often someone comes in, but it's the Sunnydale Syndrome again – no one notices anything unless it happens right in front of them, and even then they forget about it two minutes later. People don't _want_ to believe in the supernatural."

"And yet they write books and make movies and televisions shows about them."

"Yep. Erotic, isn't it?"

Charles frowned. "Erotic?" _What could possibly be sexually attractive about vampires and demons?_

Buffy blinked. "Huh?"

"Doctor, I believe Buffy meant to say 'ironic', not erotic," Giles interjected. He smiled. "If you haven't noticed, or she hasn't demonstrated that particular quirk around you yet, your daughter has a…unique understanding of the English language. It took me many months before I began to have an easy time understanding her when she spoke."

"What?" Buffy asked. "It's the same difference."

"Actually Buffy, they are not even remotely close. Ironic means that something is not what it appears to be – like someone writing a book about something they don't believe in. Erotic means that something is sexually attractive," Giles said with a small smile as Buffy's face turned bright red.

"Oh. Um…" Buffy looked really embarrassed by her mistake. She looked between her father and her former Watcher. "Well, I guess we'll let you get back to your research, Giles. Don't forget to eat your soup."

"Ah, Buffy, before you go, I'd like to ask your father something."

Charles looked over at him. "Yes?"

"During the time that the Mayor was holding you, did he indicate why he wanted you?"

* * *

_Bayville…_

"Auntie O?"

Ororo turned at the sound of her nephew's voice. "Yes, Evan?"

"Um…I wanted to ask you how long I was grounded for after that…incident with Sabretooth." Her nephew's face was somewhat bleak, as if he expected that she was going to tell him that four days wasn't remotely long enough for what had happened.

But in truth, she had to admit that although Evan had made some poor choices, the entire incident couldn't be laid on his shoulders. He couldn't have known that Sabretooth was in Bayville, nor that Sabretooth knew that he lived with Logan. He certainly couldn't have known why Logan took such care not to be followed when he left the mansion – Logan certainly had never been forthcoming with the students about the animosity between the two of them. And if it hadn't been Evan and the camera that had told Sabretooth where to find Logan, Sabretooth still would have figured it out. Sabretooth might be feral and dangerous, but he was not stupid.

What Evan was really being punished for was his decision to leave the mansion when he knew that Sabretooth was on the loose, and the way that his "plan" had endangered Rogue and Kitty. He was a member of a team, and even though he hadn't tried to confront Sabretooth alone, he'd had no notion of just how deadly dangerous Sabretooth was – and he hadn't bothered to find out before he put the girls in danger. He also hadn't told them what he was planning – if they hadn't been as highly trained as they were, they would have been killed.

"Come in, Evan. I've wanted to talk to you anyway." She turned away from the research she was still doing on Sunnydale and reached over to the wall to push a red button. As soon as she pressed it, a hidden wall slid down in front of the console, hiding it from unknowing eyes. Evan knew all about Cerebro, but for this discussion, she didn't want anything distracting him.

Evan came in and sat down in one of the chairs in front of the Professor's desk, while she took the other one. "Look, I know I did the wrong thing with Sabretooth. I shouldn't have gotten involved, but I was just trying to make things right."

"Evan, none of us are mad at you for wanting to help," Storm told him. "The reason that you're in trouble is because you put yourself, Rogue, and Kitty in extreme danger, and you didn't even bother to tell them what you were planning. You got lucky that Scott told Logan you'd left the estate, and that he and the Professor were able to track the three of you. You could have been killed so easily…it frightens me just thinking about it."

"I thought we were supposed to be learning how to protect ourselves?" Evan asked.

"You are, but you aren't ready to face someone like Sabretooth," Storm told him severely. "Evan, I understand a lot more than you would expect. You're young, and you think that bad things can't happen to you. You're a mutant, and you have a power that can be both offensive and defensive, and that gives you extra security. But did you even stop to think that you could be seriously hurt or killed?" Before he could answer, she held up her hand. "Don't answer right away. Think about it before you say anything." She wanted an honest answer from him, not what he thought she wanted to hear.

Evan was silent for a few minutes. "No."

"That's why the Professor and Logan restricted you to the estate. It wasn't meant to be an unreasonable punishment, it was meant to give you time to think, and also to realize that there are some orders that you have to follow," Storm said softly. "I care about you, Evan. You're my nephew, and I love you."

"I love you too, Auntie. It's just…" he sighed. "I'm not like the rest of you. I only joined the team so that the Professor could keep me out of jail. I mean, yeah, I think the Professor might be right, that we might be able to live in peace with regular humans, and I'm grateful for everything he's done. But…I can't just follow rules, and I'm not used to being on this kind of a team. Basketball's different. I liked my old school, and I liked being in the city."

"I know it's been a hard transition for you, Evan. And you've done very well. I'm proud of you, and so are your parents and Professor Xavier. He doesn't mean to be so stern with you, and he's not trying to blame you for your mistakes."

Evan shrugged noncommittally, and Storm knew that there was something else bothering him.

"Evan, is something else going on?" She took his hand and squeezed it gently. "You can tell me anything."

He sighed. "I just don't get the Prof lately. He's been acting so differently. It can't all be about this daughter of his – and I don't get why he felt the need to abandon us."

Storm sighed. She should probably talk to Charles before she discussed the next part, but she was concerned about her nephew's attitude regarding some things. Charles usually trusted her to handle Evan, and she was worried that if she didn't handle this now, it would be harder later. "Evan, the Professor has not abandoned us. He wants to be with his daughter. I know Kitty has discussed some of this with all of you." At her nephew's confused, startled look, she clarified. "Scott told me what she said to you, because he wanted to know more too. The Professor isn't opposed to all of you knowing more, he just doesn't have that much to tell you yet, because he's still figuring things out himself."

"Yeah, I know. She was kidnapped, and he wants to know why." There was definitely a surly note in Evan's voice, one that he probably didn't intend for her to hear. But she heard it nonetheless, and it hurt her deeply. Yes, Evan was a teenager, and would have rough patches in his life – that was normal. But where was this anger coming from, when the Professor had done so much for him? It couldn't be solely due to the way the Professor had gotten him to join the team. Up until the news of the Professor having a daughter had been discovered, Evan had seemed to be content with his new life.

"Do you blame him, Evan?" she asked, trying to understand. "The Professor has lost everything in his life that he loved – his wife, his daughter, his ability to walk…do you really want to deprive him of the chance to get to know his daughter and bring her home now that he's been fortunate enough to find her again?"

"No…I…" Evan huffed out a frustrated breath. "It just doesn't make sense. The Prof is so powerful…how could he not have known that she was alive, and known where to find her? He has Cerebro…there's no reason she should have been gone this long and he didn't know that she was alive!"

"Evan, as powerful as the Professor is, he's not all-powerful. He's still human, and mortal," Ororo reminded him. "His daughter was an infant when she was taken – her mutant powers hadn't emerged yet. And the Professor did not have Cerebro. He had only just finished the first incarnation of it when I met him almost six years ago. Back then, Cerebro did not work without drawing a serious amount of electrical power, and it couldn't operate on its own without the Professor's telepathy. The first time he used it, _I_ had to supply the power for it using my ability to channel electricity. Since then, Cerebro has undergone radical changes that allow it to run continuous searches for mutants. But six years ago, his daughter was only twelve, and her powers still had not manifested." She sighed. "I think you need to sit down and talk to the Professor about this, Evan."

Evan blanched. "I can't! I don't want him mad at me, or thinking that I'm ungrateful!"

"Why would he be mad at you for having an opinion, Evan?" Storm asked, truly baffled by the issues that her nephew seemed to be having. "He wants to help you become the best person you can be – the person we all know you're capable of becoming. That's what he wants for everyone. He wouldn't be much of a leader or teacher if he got mad at you for expressing your feelings. Just be honest with him, and _listen_ to what he tells you. I think you'll find that you have more in common with him than you realize. He's gone through many of the same things that you have."

Evan looked skeptical, but nodded. "All right, Auntie O, if you say so."

Storm reached out and touched his shoulder. "I expect him to call this evening. I'll talk to him about some of the things we've discussed today, and I'll ask him about your restriction to the grounds if you'd like. Then the two of you can talk."

Evan nodded silently. "May I go?"

She nodded at him. "Yes, Evan." They both stood up, and she pulled him into a hug. "I love you, little man. Keep doing your best, and things will get easier. I promise."

That got a genuine smile out of him. "I will Aunt Ororo. Thanks for believing in me."

"Always."

* * *

_Sunnydale…City Hall…_

"Why would B rescue him? I mean, I get that she would want to trade for Red, it makes sense. They're best friends and all. But how did B even know about him?"

Faith was slouched down in one of the chairs in the Mayor's office. She wanted to put her feet up, or at least dangle them over the arm of the chair, but the Mayor always frowned when she did that, so for now she contented herself with a semi-casual sprawl.

In the initial chaos the night before, even when they had realized that Buffy and Angel had not only stolen the Box, but they'd freed the crippled Professor, it hadn't been a huge priority. Their first priority had been the theft of the Box, which was crucial to the Mayor's Ascension. But now, a day later, they'd had time to consider the odd play by the Slayer's team.

"Yes, Doctor Xavier's rescue is very odd," the Mayor sighed. "I was so hoping that he would have some results for my friend by the time my Ascension comes. My friend has long been looking for a way to prove his theory. I suppose that I will have to turn next to Doctor McTaggert in Scotland. She's nearly of the same caliber of scientist as Xavier, so the work will not be _too_ long delayed."

"But that still don't explain why they rescued him in the first place," Faith said. "I know B and her little group – they might be goodie-goods, but they always have a reason for what they do."

"Well, Doctor Xavier did attempt to use a spell to attack my mind," the Mayor said thoughtfully. "Perhaps he used a spell to make them take him with them. He certainly was not happy about the idea that I might have to ask Doctor McTaggert to assist with the project."

"I can go and try to get him back, if you want. He's a cripple, it shouldn't be that hard," Faith offered.

"No, of course it wouldn't be difficult. But if they had some other reason to rescue him, they'll be on their guard with him," the Mayor said thoughtfully. "I'm sure you could still accomplish it with ease, my girl, but I think it would be more productive to first try to lure him back. I'll get in touch with Doctor McTaggert first. If Doctor Xavier tries to contact her and learns that she's working with us, he'll come back, if only to protect her."

He opened his file cabinet and after a moment pulled out a slender folder. "Let's see…Doctor McTaggert…ah." He reached for the phone. "Now to give her a call…"

* * *

_Sunnydale High Library…_

"He didn't explain fully, but yes. According to what he told me, he was familiar with my genetics research, particularly my theories on human mutation and evolution. I haven't widely publicized the results of my research, but I have expressed the belief that human mutation is possible, since mutation is a part of the basic evolution a species needs to survive." Charles steepled his fingers as he thought. "I've been researching my theories ever since I was in high school, in an effort to understand my own powers, and I've taken to observing my students to see if I can determine just what it is that determines what powers a mutant will receive when their mutated gene becomes active in puberty."

Giles looked puzzled. "I wouldn't have expected that to be important to him, given that the Ascension is coming up in a little under three weeks."

"He handed me some files and wanted me to – I suppose – identify and isolate the gene that determines witchcraft. At least, that was the problem that he presented me with," Charles replied.

"Witchcraft?" Giles asked. "There's no gene for the ability to do magic. Anyone can learn it." He absently selected a book from the shelf behind him. "It's true that it does take some aptitude – focus, control, and knowledge – to work some of the largest spells, but anyone can do magic if they have the inclination and the proper preparations."

"Witchcraft is real too?" Charles asked. All during the time he'd been looking at the files and reports that the Mayor had given him, he'd been assuming that what the Mayor referred to as 'witchcraft' was in actuality just a somewhat primitive mutation that had been misunderstood by people throughout history. It was easy enough for someone to _believe_ that they were a witch who could do spells, but that didn't necessarily make it true.

Buffy nodded. "Yep. Willow's a witch."

Charles blinked, before he spoke slowly. "The girl from last night – the redhead – is a witch?"

"Uh huh. And her boyfriend Oz is a werewolf."

"Werewolf?" Charles' voice was faint as he asked the question. _First vampires and demons, now witches and werewolves? When will the insanity stop?_ "And…he changes form?"

"Every month on the full moon and the two days surrounding it. Otherwise he's a perfectly ordinary high school senior and bass guitarist, if rather quiet," his daughter assured him, her green eyes glinting with good humor and mischief.

Charles couldn't help but wonder if this was to be the routine from this point on, now that he knew that world of the supernatural was real. His daughter would allow him to think that he knew everything about it, and then drop some tidbit of information that would leave him completely confused or fumbling for a logical explanation.

"How can they be real? How does the world not know about this?"

"They do, Professor," Giles said. "But the supernatural is terrifying, so people pass them off as stories and Hollywood myths. It is so much easier to believe that something is a legend than to acknowledge that creatures of darkness live among us and hunt us."

Now _that_ had a familiar ring to it. As Charles often stressed to his students, they didn't know what the limits of their powers were unless they were willing to try, but more than that, to _believe_ that it was possible. And even outside of their mutant powers, none of them had any idea what they were truly capable of when they came up against an obstacle or challenge that they had never faced before.

That was why he truly felt that peace between mutants and non-mutants would be possible, on the day when human mutation was exposed to the general public. If people could just believe that peace and unity were possible, and actually try to make it a reality, his dream couldn't help but come true. He had placed all of his belief in it, and it was his hope that by educating the teens and children who would be the next generation, that they could make his dream a reality in the future, even if he never saw it come to fruition in his lifetime.

"Belief is power," Charles stated the simple fact that he had stressed over and over to his students.

Giles nodded. "As long as people are not willing to open their eyes and truly believe, they will deny the supernatural, and be at risk for becoming a victim to the dark creatures that live among them."

"Well, whatever his interest, the Mayor was quiet serious about this research that he wished me to do," Charles continued the discussion that had, yet again, become somewhat side-tracked in the myriad of information that he was learning about the world his daughter lived in. "He had a fully equipped research lab in the basement of City Hall where he kept me all day yesterday. The files were full of reports of experiments that had already been done, with the correct layout and documentation for standard acceptance by the scientific community."

"A lab? Under City Hall?" Giles asked, surprised.

Charles nodded. "He indicated that he had a friend, one who I would suppose might be a campaign supporter, who had asked him to use me to do the research."

"Why you?" Buffy asked.

"I'm one of the leading experts in the field of genetics, my dear. I don't know if my being in Sunnydale only provided an opportunistic moment to acquire my services, or if he would have sent someone after me had I still been at home in Bayville. I agreed to look at the file to keep him from Moira…" he trailed off as a horrifying realization sank in. In all the confusion... "Moira! I completely forgot to call and warn her!"

He pulled out his cell phone and quickly dialed Moira's number at Muir Island in Scotland from memory. How could he have forgotten? Moira was one of the few friends he had left after the way he'd gone into a self-imposed social exile. The stubborn Scottish woman had refused to give up on him, no matter how many times he failed to reply to her cards or letters, and during the worst periods of his depression, she had always seemed to know and had hounded him with phone calls until he had felt obligated to talk to her, just to have some peace from her increasingly nagging messages.

"_Muir Island Research Center. How may I direct your call?"_ a secretary asked.

"Moira McTaggert, please."

"_One moment please,"_ the receptionist put him on hold while he was transferred over to Moira's private line. Moira constantly changed the number of her private line, in order to keep people from calling her when she was in the middle of a delicate experiment, and to allow the receptionist to screen her calls.

"_Hello."_

"Moira?" Charles began, only to pause as she continued talking and he realized that he was listening to a recording.

"_You've reached the office of Doctor Moira McTaggert. I am unavailable to speak to you right now, but please leave a message and I will get back to you as soon as I can."_

A cold fear knotted in his gut, and he wondered if the Mayor had already sent someone after his friend. It was possible that he _had_ sent people to Bayville before learning that Charles was in Sunnydale. By now they could easily have made it to Scotland. When the beep sounded in his ear, he spoke quickly, but calmly. "Moira, its Charles Xavier. I need you to call me on my cell phone as soon as you get this message. If you don't reach me, call the school and talk to Logan or Ororo, and they'll get a message to me. I need to speak to you as soon as possible."

He hesitated, before he continued. "If you receive a call from a Mayor Wilkins, don't listen to what he has to say. I'm not trying to frighten you; I just need you to trust me."

He hung up the phone, half-hoping that it would ring immediately. He didn't want to alarm Moira, but he needed her to understand the urgency.

"Who is Moira?" his daughter asked curiously.

"She's a friend of mine from college, also a leading geneticist," Charles replied absently, still willing his phone to ring. "We've done a lot of research together, and co-authored several papers. She's one of the few non-mutants who knows about my powers and those of my students."

"Oh." Buffy didn't know why his concern for his friend sent an odd feeling through her. Her father was allowed to have friends, both male and female. She had Giles, Oz, Xander, and Angel in addition to Willow and sometimes Cordelia. She couldn't expect him not to have other female friends besides her birth mother. He had already indicated to her that he still loved his wife, even though she'd been dead for so long, and there had been no tone in his voice that indicated that he loved this Moira. At least, not in any way other than a friend. "Why are you so worried?"

"The Mayor threatened to get Moira involved if I didn't agree to help him with the research. Moira is one of my few friends, and she'd go through the fires of hell itself to help me if she thought I was in trouble – and with her Scottish stubbornness, she'd probably pull it off," Charles said. "If the Mayor threatened to hurt me in order to get her involved, she wouldn't hesitate. She's done a lot for me over the years, and if I can do anything to protect her, I will."

**Don't forget to read and review! Lurkers, come out to play!**


	42. Chapter 41: Introspection

**Well, okay...two months isn't too long between updates, I think. This chapter just kicked my butt. I could not figure out where I wanted to take it. But everyone's going to have to stay with me on this one...there's a lot of time changes and POV changes. I don't_think_ I made it too complicated to follow, but then, I've been staring at these pages for several days now.**

_**Chapter Forty-One: Introspection**_

"_**The farther backward you can look, the farther forward you will see."**_

_**- Winston Churchill**_

_Sunnydale High Library…_

Buffy watched her father closely, while trying not to appear that she was watching him. Despite the calm he was trying to display, she could tell by the way he repeatedly clenched and unclenched his hand around his cell phone that he was deeply concerned about his friend – this Moira MacTaggert. If he was aware of her attention, he gave no sign, and it didn't seem to bother him.

They had been just about to head back to her house, leaving Giles to his work when the former Watcher had exclaimed softly, a small sound of triumph, before diving back into the stacks in search of a book. Given that she'd seen her former Watcher do that many times over the last three years – Giles' equivalent of a 'Eureka' moment, she'd explained to her father – it would probably be worth hanging around the library for a few more minutes to see what he had uncovered. Her father hadn't had any objections, so they had waited.

She had expected him to continue peppering her with questions about her Slaying, but he had only lapsed into silence while they waited. Whatever he was thinking or worrying about must have been important to derail his curiosity so effectively, and it made her wonder just what this Moira had done for him, that he showed such concern for her and such loyalty to her.

"Dad?" she finally ventured when the silence had stretched almost to the point of being uncomfortable. It was odd…usually she had difficulty sitting still for long periods of time – her Slayer powers making her twitchy if she went too long without doing something – but around her father, she didn't mind waiting in silence. It was almost as if he had a calming effect on the part of her that was the Slayer.

He blinked and looked up at her, his blue eyes clearing. "Yes, Elizabeth?"

"I –" She had been going to ask him why his friend Moira was so important to him, but she wondered if she was just being nosey.

Perhaps because of his telepathy, he seemed to know what she couldn't bring herself to ask. "Moira MacTaggert is one of my dearest friends, Elizabeth. She never gave up on me, even when I tried to push her away."

"I don't understand," Buffy admitted.

Her father sighed and shifted slightly. "When I graduated with my doctorate degrees, I had many friends and colleagues in the academic and scientific fields, but my three closet friends were your mother, her best friend Susan, and Moira. Your mother died a few years later, six months before our second wedding anniversary. A great many of my friends withdrew, out of respect for my grief, but Susan and Moira did not."

His blue eyes lost focus for a moment, and Buffy wondered if he was remembering the time he was describing to her. When clarity returned to his eyes and he focused on her again, his voice was tight with remembered pain. "It was not a good time for me, Elizabeth. I was grieving the loss of my wife, I was still trying to adjust and adapt to the loss of my ability to walk, and I was a new father, trying to cope with your special needs, since you had been born prematurely. Susan was an enormous help to me, since she lived right in Bayville, and she was my rock for the first few months. Moira helped where she could, but she lived in Scotland, so she mainly tried to provide emotional support through phone calls and letters."

Buffy found herself touched by his story. _No wonder he seems so quiet, so distant._ The things he was describing explained a great deal about his attitude and the perceptions he gave off. She was sure there was more, although she wasn't sure how she knew that.

"Frankly, Elizabeth, you were the one thing that kept me going. Knowing that Lizzie gave her life to bring you into the world – it was enough to give me some comfort, knowing that her death wasn't meaningless, and I needed that. But when you disappeared…my world was shattered for the third time in less than a year. I became obsessed with finding you, and I shut myself away from the world. I pushed Susan and Moira away, stopped talking to anyone – I was a recluse. The only person I had any contact with was David Walker, the private detective I hired a year after you disappeared, after the police gave up. After another year, even David gave up the search and I pushed everything and everyone else aside – except Moira. She refused to give up on me. She was constantly writing and calling me, no matter how often I refused to answer her letters or calls, she just kept nagging me until I finally had to give in and talk to her."

"You mentioned that she was stubborn," Buffy remembered.

"Stubborn doesn't begin to describe Moira," her father said fondly. "She's the only reason I didn't give up hope completely. She kept me linked to the world, even though our relationship has only been that of friends and co-workers."

Buffy couldn't help but wonder if her father wished that they (meaning himself and this Moira MacTaggert) had had a relationship, given the way that he had so carefully clarified it to her. She hesitated for a moment, gathering her courage, before she finally blurted out the question. "Dad, did you ever –" _God this is awkward!_ "I don't know, wish you and she…?" She was desperately hoping that he wouldn't take offense at her question. After all, they still didn't know each other that well, and now she was certain that her question was nothing but nosey.

He appeared startled by her question, but not angry or offended. "Do I love Moira, you mean?" he asked with a small smile on his face once he had absorbed what she was asking. When she nodded, her face still red, he shook his head. "Moira is a wonderful woman and a dear friend. If things had been different, if I hadn't met your mother – I suppose that there _could_ have been something between the two of us. But I loved your mother, Elizabeth. I still do. There's no other woman who could capture my heart the way she did." After a moment, his face darkened. "I truly hope that she is safe."

"Do you think she would really listen to the Mayor?" Buffy asked.

"Voluntarily? No. But if they threatened me? Possibly. I would hope that she would at least try to get in touch with me, either by calling me directly, or calling the school before she made a decision," he said after a moment's thought. "Moira is stubborn, but she's not rash or stupid. She wouldn't take anything at face value any more than I would." He looked at her closely. "Would the Mayor really go after her?"

Buffy thought about it for a moment. "I'm not sure. Sunnydale is a long way from Scotland. I can't imagine the Mayor's focus stretching that far when the Ascension is going to happen in less than a month unless we find a way to stop it. He's been planning this for a long time – I can't imagine him getting distracted." She sighed. "Unfortunately, I don't know that much. We only found out about the Ascension by accident."

"How does that happen? Do you have an informant, or some kind of network for getting information about the vampires?" her father asked, curiously.

"Well, I do have one source, but it's not very good or reliable," she admitted. "Sometimes I get dreams."

"Dreams?" he echoed. After a moment it dawned on him. "Precognition?"

Buffy nodded. "One of the more annoying Slayer powers. I don't get a lot – a face, a place….they're cryptic as hell most of the time, and I don't usually understand what they mean until the very last minute." She shrugged. "The dreams are the Powers' way of communicating with me, but I don't rely on them. Normally I try to get more info directly from the vamps and demons, and there's a bartender downtown who's a bit of a snitch. I can usually get him to tell me anything he knows. Giles has his books and prophecies, and Angel has his ear to the ground – he knows a lot about the demonic world and if he hears something he lets me know."

* * *

Charles frowned. What she was describing sounded so haphazard – a hit or miss set-up. "It sounds chancy."

"It is," she agreed. "But we've known about the Ascension for about a month. That's more lead time than we usually get." She shrugged. "I accepted a long time ago that I couldn't save everyone and that there would be times when I wouldn't learn about something in time to stop it. But for the big things – the near Apocalypses and such – if it's something that I can stop or influence, the Powers usually arrange for me to find out somehow."

"Ah!" Giles' voice sounded from among the stacks, cutting off Charles' response. "Now that makes sense!" The former Watcher emerged from the back of the library, a large book open in his arms as he scanned the pages. He hurried down to the table and consulted Willow's pages again.

"Giles? What did you find?" Buffy asked.

"Do you remember the incident with the tribute to Lurconis?" Giles asked, glancing up at her.

"The babies and the giant snake monster?" Buffy asked after a moment.

Giles nodded. "Exactly."

"I could never forget it, what with you and Mom both acting like teenagers…" she trailed off, and Charles noted with interest the uncomfortable look on Mr. Giles' face. He wondered what that was about, but knew that his daughter probably wouldn't tell him anything. He just hoped that sooner or later he'd get a chance to hear some of the stories behind these comments. It was somewhat frustrating to be trying to piece together what was going on when he only had a fraction of the details. Figuring out what Mystique was up was never as difficult as understanding his daughter's life was turning out to be.

"Erm…yes. I never discovered the reason for the tribute, but it appears that tribute was only one of many. The Mayor had to make a great many deals and arrangements with various demons to even start on the path to Ascension." He looked at her seriously. "Buffy, this is much bigger than the Mayor acquiring a few demon powers like I originally thought."

Buffy sighed. "I was afraid of that. Faith wouldn't have been so smug, or so angry, when Angel and I tricked her if it wasn't something major."

Charles' focus sharpened at the name. "Faith? A young brunette, rather aggressive?"

His daughter nodded. "Yep. She was on our side for a while this year, but she made a big mistake and now she's on the Mayor's side."

"What did she do?" Charles asked, thinking back to his impressions of the young woman. All that anger and hatred – a lot of it self-directed. Then there was that flash of memory that she had unwittingly thrown at him and that he had unintentionally seen…there was a great deal of pain in the young woman that he had met. But given what the Mayor seemed to have planned, what mistake could she possibly have made that would have been so horrible as to turn her to his side?

"She killed the Deputy Mayor."

At the expression on his face, his daughter hastened to explain. "It was an accident. We were after a demon that had a bunch of vamps working for him. We were fighting our way through a bunch of alleys, and Finch stepped out of the shadows and grabbed my arm. Faith just reacted, thinking he was a vamp, and I couldn't stop her in time."

"That could have been forgiven," Giles added, looking up from his work. "But what made it worse was that Faith hid the body. She and Buffy were so rattled by what happened that they ran, but Faith returned later and tossed the body into the water with weights. He was found, however, and when the police tracked them down as having been in the area, Faith was rattled enough that she came to me and tried to blame the entire thing on Buffy."

"We gave her another chance, but she…" Buffy sighed. "I don't know. Maybe she felt like we really didn't want her with us, or maybe she thought that we would always be watching her, waiting for her to slip up, but for some reason she went over to join the Mayor. She pretended like she was on our side, but she slipped up and made me suspicious, and we were able to trick her into revealing that she was working for the Mayor and had been for at least a few months."

"I met her. At City Hall. The Mayor had her guarding me, and escorting me from the room where you found me to the lab. She is not a healthy girl, mentally or emotionally," Xavier said softly.

"She's gone rogue," Buffy said coldly. "She betrayed everything that is important, and she's working for evil. We can't trust her."

"No, Elizabeth. It's more than that. I tried talking to her once and I got a glimpse into her mind. She was badly abused growing up, and she's never coped with that," Charles countered. "But I don't think she's beyond help."

* * *

_Muir Island, Scotland…_

Moira opened the door to her office as she continued to study the readouts from her latest round of experiments. The last article that she had published in the _Journal of Medical Genetics_ had had the effect of a rewarding new project to work on, one that was keeping her quite busy.

She took a seat at her desk and began compiling her recent data into the spreadsheet that held all of her data on her experiments for this project. So far everything looked good. This new gene therapy treatment, if it worked out, would save a lot of lives and had several widespread uses. The most obvious would be to treat diseases like Alzheimer's, high blood pressure, heart disease, arthritis and diabetes. Of course, even with her research, it would be years before gene therapy could be used as a widespread treatment. There were a great many variables that had to be overcome. The focus of her research, at the moment, was finding ways to keep the immune system from reacting to the foreign "invaders" that were necessary to carry the modified genes. Her last report to the pharmaceutical company that was funding her research looked promising, and they were quite pleased with her progress.

As she finished entering the data into her computer and turned back to her desk to write up her notes, she noticed the message light on her phone was blinking. She set her work aside and pressed the play button.

"_You have two new messages. New message:_

_Hello Dr. MacTaggert. My name is Richard Wilkins. I would like to speak to you about a genetic research project that I believe you would find interesting. If you could call me back at 408-555-6392 in California, I would appreciate it._

_Message received today at 6:19 p.m. New message:_

_Moira, its Charles Xavier. I need you to call me on my cell phone as soon as you get this message. If you don't reach me, call the school and talk to Logan or Ororo, and they'll get a message to me. I need to speak to you as soon as possible. If you receive a call from a Mayor Wilkins, don't listen to what he has to say. I'm not trying to frighten you; I just need you to trust me._

_Message received today at 7:48 p.m. End of messages. "_

Moira leaned back in her chair. _Charles…_ She hadn't talked to him in a few months. Her current research was keeping her busy, just like his school was keeping him busy. They had remained friends all of these years, and often worked together on their research, but this current project was not among those that tended to interest him. Oh, he would have helped her if she had asked, but this project was mostly just time-consuming, and required a lot of different trials before she would find the answer.

"I wonda' what this is all about," she said to herself. How had he known about the call from Wilkins? Charles was telepathic, but he had never admitted to being able to see the future. And even if he had, why would Charles not want her to respond to a request from a potential client? She couldn't believe that he could be jealous that Wilkins had approached her and not him. Charles didn't get that petty.

Curious, she picked up the receiver and dialed Charles' school. She didn't have Charles' cell phone number, but she knew Ororo or Logan would know it. It was just after nine in the evening here, which made it around five in New York. _And why would he want me to call him on his cell phone?_ she wondered as she listened to the ring. She couldn't remember the last time that Charles had left his mansion. Whenever they had to present a paper they had co-authored, he always asked her to handle the presentations.

The years he had spent as a recluse after his daughter had disappeared had revealed a great deal about him. During college he'd been – if not particularly outgoing – social enough, with Lizzie by his side. But he'd always been quiet, content to go to the theatre or to a movie rather than a party or one of the high-class social functions that he could easily have attended, given his money and his family history. But after he'd lost both his wife and daughter, he'd lost all interest in the social aspect of the world.

"_Hello? Err, I mean, Xavier School, how may I help you?"_ The voice that answered the phone was young and female, with a hint of an accent, although Moira couldn't place it immediately. This was one of Charles' students, then. He'd mentioned them to her, but she'd never met them.

"May I speak to Charles, lass?" Moira asked.

"_Professor Xavier isn't here right now."_

"Then may I speak to Logan or Ororo?"

"_Just a minute, please._" The girl put her on hold and Moira waited, still curious to know what this was all about.

Charles' sudden decision to open a school in his family home a year ago had come as quite a surprise. She had known that he loved teaching, but given the way he had devoted himself so thoroughly to his research, she hadn't expected that he would ever step foot inside a classroom again, given his reclusive behavior for seventeen years. Of course, the news hadn't been as much of a surprise as the day he'd told her about his telepathic powers, of course.

That had been…six years ago, if she remembered properly…

* * *

"_**Hello, Moira."**_

"_**Ah, Charles, so good ta see ya. I've missed ya old friend," she said as she stepped over to where he was disembarking from the sleek black jet that had landed on her helicopter pad.**_

"_**I've missed you too, Moira."**_

_**Her friend hadn't changed much, physically, since the last time she'd seen him almost twelve years ago. He was older, yes, but so was she. But his poise and his carriage were the same, and his quiet dignity. But the change was in his eyes. The last time she'd seen him, his deep, penetrating blue eyes had been filled with pain and agony at the time, and she'd feared that his losses would drive him mad. But now his eyes had a little more life in them. The pain was still there, but it was deeply buried, and only someone who already knew about it would have been able to tell it was there at all.**_

_**He seemed to hesitate as she came to stand beside him, but she didn't as she bent down to embrace him. He stiffened for a moment in surprise before he returned the embrace. They'd been so close once, their mutual love of science and genetics giving them a common bond and a comfortable ease in working together. Never a romantic bond, for she had seen how committed he was to Lizzie, even though they were not married at the time she'd met him. Perhaps if the situation had been different…she knew it would have been easy to fall in love with Charles Xavier. His dignity, his quiet calm, his intelligence, his compassion for everyone…and of course, he was quite handsome. But he loved Lizzie, and Lizzie returned his love in equal measure, so Moira had been content to simply be a friend and a coworker.**_

"_**Wha' brings ya here, Charles?" she asked as they broke apart.**_

"_**Partly curiosity," he admitted. "You've told me a great deal about this center, and I wanted to see it."**_

"_**Aye, o' course Charles. A tour, then?"**_

"_**A tour would be wonderful."**_

"_Hello?"_ Ororo's rich voice broke through her memories, drawing her back into the present.

"Ororo? 'Tis Moira MacTaggert."

"_Moira! How wonderful to hear from you. How have you been?"_

"Busy as usual," Moira admitted. "And you?"

"_The students keep us hopping," _Ororo admitted with a small laugh. _"Especially my wayward nephew. What can I do for you?"_

"I received a message from Charles. He wanted me to call him. Said it was urgent."

"_Charles isn't here right now, Moira. He's out in California."_

Richard Wilkins had said that he was calling from California. A connection, perhaps, to Charles' mysterious message? "'E's takin' a sunny vacation?" Moira asked.

"_Not exactly. Cerebro located a new mutant, another telepath. He's out there to convince her to enroll at the school."_

"Could I have his cell number, then?" Moira asked.

"_Of course."_ Ororo gave it to her and Moira quickly wrote it down. "_He'll be glad to hear from you Moira. There's been a lot of interesting developments around here lately, and I'm sure he could use an old friend to talk to."_

"Oh?" Moira asked, her curiosity deepened. "Wha' kind of developments?"

"_I'll let Charles share that with you, given that it's his news, and I don't know exactly how much he's told you," _Ororo said apologetically.

"Aye, I understand," Moira assured her. "Out 'o curiosity, who was it who answered the phone?"

"_That was Kitty. She's from a small town near Chicago."_

"Ah, that explains her accent."

"_Look who's talking," _Ororo laughed. _"You've got quite an accent yourself."_

"Aye, I do," Moira agreed. "Give my regards to Logan."

"_I will, Moira. You take care,"_ Ororo replied before she hung up.

Moira chuckled quietly to herself as she depressed the button to get back the dial tone. She truly enjoyed talking to Ororo. The weather goddess had a cheerful outlook on everything, but a quiet dignity as well, and a unique wisdom to go along with that dignity. Talking to her was always enlightening.

At the moment however, Moira was intensely curious to know why Charles had contacted her so suddenly. And what exactly had Ororo meant by saying that there had been interesting developments? Surely the world couldn't have found out about the presence of mutants among them. If regular people knew, she would have heard about it, even consumed by her work as she was.

As she dialed the number that Ororo had given her, she thought back to the day that Charles had told her that he was a mutant again.

* * *

"_**I'm quite impressed, Moira. You have a remarkable set-up here," Charles steered his chair out the doorway and across the lawn towards the small house that was part of the Center. Most of the staff took a boat over to the island each day from the mainland, but Moira had fallen in love with the rugged little island and had chosen to make her home part of the research center. There was also a small (very small) village on the far side of the island, but the few people who lived there were mostly shepherds and their families, along with the few amenities that the village needed – a post office, a small general store, a pub, and the ferry workers that brought people over from the mainland each day.**_

"_**Thank you Charles. It's been a long time coming, but I'm happy with the results," she said as she unlocked the door and stepped back so that he could enter her little house. "Now, why are you really here?"**_

_**Charles stopped his chair alongside her couch as she closed the door and headed into the kitchen to begin making tea for them. He looked at her seriously. "I came because there's a special project I would like your help with. We wouldn't be able to release the results for a few years once we finish, most likely, but when the time is right, we would have a lot of data to share. I've been researching this for years on my own, but I think you'll find it as fascinating as I do."**_

_**Moira put the kettle on to boil and moved over to the doorway, looking out at him. "Really? 'T sounds interestin' no doubt."**_

"_**You must have noticed that a lot of my research in the past has dealt with evolution of a species and various mutations that develop over time in plants and animals," Charles began. When she nodded he continued. "I've also been looking into mutations in human genetics – single generational mutations and their effects. I have evidence of such mutations, but I don't yet have a way to predict when such things will occur, or a method of predicting what causes a particular mutation."**_

_**Moira frowned at his explanation. "What kinds of mutations. I know that you're not talking about the kinds that cause Alzheimer's or other rare diseases."**_

"_**You're right, Moira, I'm not." **__I'm speaking of mutations that grant special abilities – special powers, if you prefer._

"'_**Tis science fiction, Charles," she said, her frown deepening.**_

_No, Moira, it isn't._

_**Moira opened her mouth to respond, before she realized something. Charles had just spoken to her – but his mouth hadn't moved. And she knew for a fact that he wasn't a ventriloquist. Not only did he have no interest in watching such things, he had not become a recluse so that he could learn to throw his voice.**_

_**Charles' blue eyes were beginning to show a slight sparkle in them as he watched her reaction. His face remained calm, but the humor was there, nonetheless.**_

"_**H-how did ye do that?"**_

_I'm telepathic, Moira. I have been ever since I was young. My ability first manifested when I was eleven. __**"I've kept it secret for a very long time, but I've been able to analyze my own DNA and I've discovered a mutated gene that I believe to be the cause. Only Lizzie knew my secret, and I didn't tell her until after we had been engaged for almost two years."**_

_**Moira could only stare at him in shock.**_

"_Hello? Moira, is that you?" _Charles' voice broke through her memories, laden with concern.

"Aye, Charles. 'Tis me," she replied.

Charles let out a slow sigh of relief. _"I'm so glad you're safe."_

* * *

"_Why shouldn't I be?" _Moira asked, confused.

"Have you received any calls or communication from a Mayor Wilkins, Moira?" Charles asked.

"_Aye. He left me a message about an hour and a half before you called. I haven't called him back yet."_

"Don't call him, Moira," Charles ordered.

"_Why? What's this about, Charles?"_

"Mayor Wilkins is…" How could he tell her, warn her, without getting into the vampire/demon/magic discussion? "He's not a good man, Moira," he finally said.

"_He's a politician, Charles. I have yet to meet a good one,"_ Moira said with a laugh.

"No, Moira. It's more than that," Charles insisted, noticing that his daughter had come into the living room and taken a seat on the couch, watching him closely. "He tried to threaten me into working on the project he wants you to help with. He abducted me, and told me that if I didn't help him he'd get you involved."

"_Abducted?"_ Moira was shocked – he could hear it in her tone. _"Charles, are you all right?"_ Her already thick Scottish accent deepened further, a sure sign of her concern.

"I'm fine, Moira. I was rescued, but I don't want him coming after you. That's why I called to warn you."

"_He's not in jail?"_

"He's protected by the police here in Sunnydale," Charles told her. "I have no proof of what he did, so I can't get the state police or the FBI involved." His tone turned urgent. "Just don't respond to him, Moira. I don't want you hurt."

There was silence over the line for several moments as Moira digested everything that he'd told her. He could hear her breathing as she thought and he looked over at his daughter again, to see her offering him a reassuring, if curious smile.

"_All right, Charles. But why are you in California? Ororo told me that there had been some interesting developments and that you had some kind of news?"_

"That's true, Moira." He looked at Elizabeth again, feeling tears welling up in his eyes just at the thought that he'd found her after so many years of looking. "I – yes, you could definitely say that I have news, and good news at that," he added, his voice thick.

"_What is it Charles? What's wrong?"_

"Nothing's wrong Moira. For once, everything is going right." He hesitated only for a moment. "I – I've found her, Moira. I found Elizabeth after all these years."

Dead silence on the other end of the call. This time he couldn't even hear her breathing, and he knew he must have completely shocked her, the same way he had been shocked when his daughter's image had appeared on Cerebro's monitors.

"_W-what?"_

"I've found my daughter, Moira. She's alive."

**_Don't forget to read and review! And if you haven't checked out "Saying Good-bye", the first story in this series, please do so, and leave me a comment!_**


	43. Chapter 42: Lessons of All Kinds

**Author's Note: I'll be brief tonight...it's a new chapter! Hope you enjoy!**

_**Chapter Forty-two: Lessons of all Kinds**_

_"Experience is a brutal teacher, but you learn. My God, do you learn."_

_- author C.S. Lewis_

_Sunnydale High Library…Sunday afternoon, May 9__th__, 1999…_

Giles sighed and sat back, rubbing tired eyes before he removed his glasses and placed them on the table in front of him. His 'great breakthrough' regarding Lurconis had petered out. Willow's stolen pages were so condensed with information, as well as being so over-written, that it was slowing things down and making it difficult to get clear answers.

The others, especially Buffy, were counting on him to come up with the answers in time to stop the Ascension. They already knew from what Angel had discovered that the Mayor was invulnerable. Whether or not that would be the case after the Ascension was still up in the air, but if it turned out that he was, they would have a serious problem on their hands.

_Tea…I need some tea._ He rose to his feet and headed into his office where he kept a kettle and a hot plate. It only took a moment to start the water before he pulled a tea bag out of the canister he kept on top of is filing cabinet.

Part of the problem, he knew, concerned Buffy and her father. He still didn't know how trustworthy Xavier was, although the interest he was showing – the acceptance he was trying to reach – was promising. It was just the timing of the situation that wasn't ringing true.

It just seemed too convenient that Xavier would show up now, with less than a month to go before graduation and the Ascension. Odd occurrences were the norm on the Hellmouth, but the timing in this case felt wrong.

_You're tired, old man_, his mind whispered to him. He wasn't young any more and for the last three years he had pushed himself to his limits and beyond more than once. It was all for a good cause of course, but one of theses days he would have to realize that he wasn't twenty and couldn't stay up all night researching demons and vampires, hold down a full time job, and run on little to no sleep while forgetting to eat.

Maybe a change in his focus would help to clarify some of the matters regarding Xavier. He hadn't finished sorting through the documentation that Roberta had sent him. He'd only had time to give it a brief once-over. But maybe a closer look would help dispel some of his unease. It was quite possible that Xavier was meant to be here at this time, and if he could find proof of that in the information that Roberta had compiled for him, it would ease his mind and he'd have more luck in piecing together a solution for the Ascension.

He poured some of the water into a cup from the whistling kettle and submerged his teabag before he went over to his desk and extracted the thick stack of paper from a drawer. He rubbed his eyes again, picked up the dossier that was on top of the stack, and began to read.

* * *

_**Moira fumbled in her purse for the money to pay the cab driver who had brought her from LaGuardia. The wind was crisp and cold as she handed the cash to the driver and stepped out of the cab. She reached back in and grabbed her small suitcase before she rushed into the hospital.**_

_**She headed straight for the admissions desk. "Is Doctor Susan McGee in tonight?" she asked the nurse as soon as she reached the desk.**_

_**The nurse checked the log and nodded. "She should be in her office on the fourth floor, in the maternity wing."**_

"_**Which way?"**_

"_**Down that hallway to the elevators, then turn right when you get to the fourth floor. Follow the signs. Someone at the nurse's station can direct you to her office or page her."**_

"_**Thank ye," Moira replied, already rushing for the elevator. Fortunately, no one was waiting to use it, and she was able to jump into the first car that arrived. She pounded the button for the fourth floor a little harder than necessary, but she couldn't particularly be bothered to care at the moment.**_

_**How could this have happened? Lizzie was dead? Her child still at risk from the premature birth? How much more would Charles have to suffer? After what had happened – the accident…she had thought that things would be getting better for them when they had learned that Lizzie was pregnant.**_

_**The elevator dinged to a stop and she got out, turning right, per the nurse's directions. The halls were wide, bright, and clearly marked as she made her way to the maternity ward. There wasn't a nurse sitting at the desk, so Moira moved down the hall, glancing at the nameplates on each door as she passed, searching for Susan's office. Although Susan had her own clinic a few miles away, she had retained hospital privileges and had a small office here as well. And according to her complaints to Moira, it wasn't much larger than a closet.**_

_**She passed a connecting corridor – the sign indicating that it led to the neonatal ICU – with just a brief glance, before she paused and doubled back to look again.**_

_**Charles was sitting in his wheelchair halfway down the corridor, looking through a window. His clothes were rumpled, he was somewhat slouched in his chair, and he seemed oblivious to the world and his condition. "Charles?" she called.**_

_**He turned his head slowly as she hurried down the hall towards him. As she drew closer, she could see the empty devastation in his blue eyes. "Moira?" His voice was hollow and came out more as a strangled croak than the rich, confident baritone she was used to. The Charles she knew was always particular about his appearance, so the rumpled clothes, unshaven face, dark circles beneath his eyes, and slouched posture came as a huge shock to her.**_

"_**Oh, Charles. I'm so sorry," she said as she reached him and took his cold, limp hand into hers. "Susan called. I came as soon as I could get a flight."**_

"_**Lizzie's dead, Moira."**_

"_**I know, Charles. I know." She squeezed his hand in a reassuring gesture, at a loss for what else she could do for him. "How's the wee one?"**_

_**Charles turned back to look through the window again. "She's holding on for the moment, but the doctors still aren't sure she'll…" He trailed off as if he couldn't bear to say anything more, as if saying it might make it a reality.**_

_**Moira stepped up to look through the glass as well and saw a tiny infant bundled up and carefully placed in an incubator. The little one was so small and frail looking, but beautiful nonetheless. But Moira knew that it would absolutely shatter Charles if she didn't make it. He would have nothing left if this last piece of Lizzie died.**_

Moira blinked dazedly as Charles' words registered. "Elizabeth? You found her? How? Where?"

"_California, about a week ago. She registered on Cerebro."_

Moira nodded to herself. Charles was a mutant, and that would lead to a high probability that his daughter would also be a mutant. "Her powers?"

"_Telepathy."_

"Like her father."

"_Perhaps, but she looks like her mother. They could almost be twins, Moira."_

She could hear the raw emotion in his voice and knew how much his daughter looking like his long-lost Lizzie would impact him. "I'll come…"

"_No, Moira."_

She blinked as the raw emotion changed to a firm, commanding tone. "Charles, you need a friend…"

"_I'm fine, Moira. I'm better than I've been in a very long time. I don't want you anywhere near Wilkins."_

She hesitated before she responded. He did sound better than he had since Lizzie had died. There was a lightness to his voice now that she hadn't heard for many years, but there was still something…"Are you certain, Charles?"

"_Yes, Moira. I promise that I am happier than I have been since Lizzie died. When we get back to New York, I'll bring Elizabeth to Muir Island so you can meet her."_

Moira couldn't help the smile that blossomed on her face at that, even though no one was there to see it. "Aye, all right, Charles. I'll look forward to it."

"_Moira…"_ Charles' tone turned serious again. _"If Wilkins doesn't give up, or you feel like you aren't safe for any reason, contact Logan or Ororo and they'll come for you."_

"Ye dunnae need to worry so much. I have complete control of security here," Moira assured him. "But if somethin' goes wrong, I'll call."

"_Thank you, Moira. I'll talk to you soon."_

"Good-bye, Charles." Moira hung up the phone gently. She couldn't believe the news. Charles' daughter was alive. After all these years, all the agony her friend had suffered…it was a true miracle.

_Lizzie, you've been watching out for Charles and your daughter, and there's no mistake about that_, she thought, wondering for a moment if it was even possible…

* * *

_Buffy's house…_

Buffy watched as her father hung up his phone and slipped it back inside his jacket. "Your friend is safe?"

Her father looked up and nodded. "Yes. She did receive a call from the Mayor, but she got my message before she called him back. She's not going to respond to him."

"Good," Buffy said. "You mentioned that she was in Scotland, right?" Her father nodded and she continued, "I doubt the Mayor has any way of controlling vamps from that far away, so if she can just avoid him for a few weeks or so, she should be safe enough. I think his focus will shift more to the Ascension as it gets closer. But until then, I'm more worried about him coming after you again."

"He caught me by surprise last time," he said. "I won't make that mistake twice."

"Your powers won't help you against a vamp," Buffy told him bluntly. "You need to be inside a private residence after dark to be safe."

"That is something that puzzles me. Why doesn't telepathy work on a vampire?" Charles asked her.

Buffy hesitated, trying to decide how to frame her answer. "I don't know. I've never really understood why things work the way they do with vamps and magic and all that. Maybe because they're dead? Or undead?" She wasn't sure she could explain it the way that Angel had until her father understood more about vampires and accepted that supernatural things didn't always make sense. Besides, she still wasn't ready for him to know that her boyfriend was a cradle-robbing, creature of the night. She had a feeling that he wouldn't take that news well.

Instead, she switched topics. "So…what comes next?" she asked, wondering where the two of them stood. She still didn't know what he expected from her, nor his feelings about who and what she was, after the bombshell she'd dropped on him the previous night. Was he disappointed? Angry? Or (hope against hope) proud?

* * *

_Bayville…_

"Anyway, my source said he would see what he could find out," Logan said as he and Storm finished programming the Danger Room with the day's scenario.

"Is your source trustworthy?" Storm asked.

"Hell, no," Logan grunted. "He's an arrogant asshole, actually. But the one thing he does know is information. He'll get what I asked for – he'll just pop up later and demand that I repay the favor when it's least convenient."

Storm glanced down into the Danger Room, where the students had just entered for their session, looking somewhat eager, if apprehensive. She knew that Logan had been planning this particular scenario for several weeks, and had received permission from the Professor to run it when he felt the students were ready for it. So, true to form, he'd sprung the news on them at breakfast, hinting that it would be one of the most intense scenarios they'd ever attempted. "I think they're ready."

"Good. Want to go brief them while I power everything up?"

Storm nodded and took the lift that lowered her from the overhead control room to the floor as the team gathered around. "All right, X-Men. Today's session is about teamwork and communication." She saw a small smile on Jean's face. As a telepath, Jean usually served as a communication relay for the team – but Storm knew that Logan had taken that into account and wouldn't be giving them any slack.

"Your goal is to survive," she told them bluntly. "The turrets will be launching low-level stun rays. If you are hit by one, you are 'dead' and will not be able to continue. You need to get from the start –" she gestured at a glowing red square on the far side of the room, "to the exit doors while avoiding the turrets and the obstacles. Today you'll be graded as a team and your grade will be determined by how many of you make it to the exit 'alive'."

She looked around at the team, who all had looks of determination on their faces as they listened to her instructions. "Go ahead and move to the start. You'll have three minutes to strategize before the scenario starts. Good luck." She moved back to the lift and rode it up to the control room, watching as they made their way to the starting square.

"Fire it up, Logan," she told him, a small smile on her face. The team had no idea what they were in for. For that matter, neither did she.

Logan's answering grin was feral. "With pleasure." He touched a button and plunged the Danger Room into darkness. The students were effectively blind, but thanks to the night-vision cameras, she and Logan could see all six of them clearly. This promised to be very interesting.

"**Danger Room Scenario will begin in three minutes,"** the computer intoned.

* * *

"All right," Scott said. "Knowing Logan, he's not going to make this easy. Jean, you're our telepathic liaison. Get those links set up." As the red-head nodded, he turned to Kitty and Kurt. "You two are advance scouts. Work together!" When they also nodded in agreement, since their powers of teleportation and immateriality made them ideal choices to serve as scouts, he turned to Evan and Rogue. "Spyke …you and I will be the heavy hitters, and Rogue you're the rear guard. We have to protect Jean so that she can keep us linked. Listen to what Kitty and Kurt say, and be ready to target any trap they flag."

The lights went out.

"**Danger Room Scenario will begin in three minutes."**

"Um, this is not good," Kurt observed.

"Logan's trying to rattle us. He can't expect us to do this blind," Scott assured him.

"Ah hope you're right, Scott," Rogue retorted. "Or we'll be in serious trouble."

"Jean?"

"The links are established, Scott."

"Good."

"**Danger Room Sequence will begin in two minutes."**

**

* * *

**

"What do you have planned, Logan?" Storm knew the general goal of the session was to see how well the X-Men could work as a team and communicate in an unpredictable situation, but Logan was keeping the details to himself for once. She wasn't even sure if the Professor knew exactly what Logan had in mind for this session.

"Eh, nothin' much. Some noise, lights, traps…general chaos. The usual." Logan tapped in a series of commands and brought up the turret targeting screen. He carefully positioned the turret lock on Jean, confirming the aim when the computer prompted him. At the look Storm gave him, he only grinned. "Not really fair of 'em to have a telepath in the group when they're runnin' a survival course that depends on their communication skills."

Storm looked down at the monitor that showed the six teens waiting for the start signal. She knew that Logan would be trying to push them to their limits, as he always did. It was the one thing that he was absolutely fanatical about, since none of them had any idea what would await them once word about mutants leaked out to the general populace. "How do you think they'll do?"

"Unless they pull off a friggin' miracle, they probably won't complete this run," Logan said with another grin. He reached over and triggered a button that would allow the two of them to hear everything the X-Men said, thanks to tiny microphones sewn into the collars of their uniforms.

"**Danger Room Sequence will begin in 10…9…8…7…"**

"_Get ready!_" Scott called.

"**6…5…4…"**

"_Locked and loaded_!" Evan called as he forced the tips of several of his spikes through the back of his hand, ready for a quick launch.

"**3…2…1…"**

The room exploded.

* * *

_Sunnydale…Buffy's house…_

His daughter's question hung in the air – a loaded question, and the emotions behind it were quite complex. Charles sensed that she was asking from a somewhat hopeful, if jaded perspective, with little anticipation about what the answer might be. This was one of those rare times when telepathy and empathy were very closely related – enough so that his powers, combined with word choice and tone of voice could convey volumes to him without his actively using his abilities.

This seemed to be another of those cases where the betrayals that his daughter had alluded to but not explained were influencing her attitude. Charles regarded her carefully for a moment before he replied calmly, "What do you mean, Elizabeth?"

"I mean, what do you expect from me?"

Charles frowned, still uncertain what she meant. "I don't expect anything from you, Elizabeth. I want to get to know you, to help you train your telepathy, and to work on strengthening our bond, but that's all."

"You're not disappointed?" The hope in her voice was slightly stronger, but there was still unease and suspicion as well.

"About what?" Her questions weren't making any sense.

"About the Slayer. About what I do." She looked – not like the strong, confident woman that he had seen the previous night when she stood up to the Mayor for her friend's life – but smaller, quieter, uncertain. And Charles realized that she had some definite issues that they would need to work through together.

Fortunately, that was one area where their telepathic bond would be of use. It was almost impossible to lie to a telepath, and once they had strengthened their bond enough, and he'd taught her a few more things about her powers, he'd be able to show her his feelings, and she wouldn't have any reason to doubt that they were the truth. But until he understood more about the betrayals, he'd have to proceed cautiously, since he didn't want to stumble onto an emotional or mental landmine.

"Elizabeth, I won't deny that I wish you didn't have this burden on your shoulders," he began slowly, watching her face carefully. "Being a mutant is hard enough, even for me, and I've known what I am for many years. But how could I be disappointed? From what you've told me, you didn't have a choice about being the Slayer."

"I didn't," was her quiet response.

"Then there is nothing for me to be disappointed about." He placed his hand on the control stick and steered his chair over to where she sat on the sofa. He reached out and took her hand, enfolding it in both of his. "Elizabeth, I love you. You were the last gift that Lizzie was able to give me. You're my daughter. There is _nothing_ that could make me stop loving you."

Elizabeth blinked and Charles could see tears pooling in her eyes, although she held them back. "I – I wasn't sure. You said she was a doctor, which means she was smart and confident – and I look like her…"

Suddenly her questions made sense. She thought that he would want her to be like her mother, that she feared that because of how similar they looked, he wouldn't be able to separate the Elizabeth he had loved and married from the daughter that he loved but hadn't known.

What she didn't realize was that their lifestyles were vastly different. Lizzie had grown up in New York – she had attended a small, private school, she'd had several close friends but had never really been part of the "in" crowd from what she had told him. Lizzie had cared more about her education than what people thought about her, although she had taken care with her appearance, since she had understood from the very beginning that people would react to her appearance first, and her personality second.

His daughter had grown up in California – out here the attitude was more relaxed than it was in the fast-paced, corporate world of New York. The cost of living was just as high, if not higher than in New York, but out here, everything was about whom you knew and how you reacted in social settings.

True, he had met Lizzie when she was eighteen, just like his daughter was now. But Lizzie had been confident, bold, and unafraid to take what she wanted. Thinking back to their first meeting in that biology class so long ago, Charles realized that Lizzie had been attracted to him right from the beginning, as he had been to her, and unlike him, she hadn't been afraid to make her interest known. Unlike other young women he had known, however, she hadn't flung herself after him because of his wealth or status – she had challenged him, treated him like an ordinary young man. His money had never interested her in the slightest. She had admired his accomplishments, but hadn't fawned over him, nor had she acted possessive around him.

From what he had seen of his daughter, she was a little more hesitant. Oh, he had seen her take charge during the confrontation with the Mayor, had seen her fight when she and Angel had been stealing that strange box and knew that she wouldn't hesitate in a combat situation, but other than that, he didn't know much about her. She had admitted to being popular at her school in Los Angeles, at least until her Slayer powers had made her a social outcast and she had started getting into trouble – but he hadn't really seen her in a social situation. Around Angel, she had seemed affectionate and caring, but cautious with her actions – as if she didn't want to take things too far, which was an attitude that he respected. For all he knew, she was just as bold and confident as her mother had been in social situations. But from what he _did_ know, there was no possible way that he could ever mistake her for her mother.

"Elizabeth, my wife is dead. I accepted the years ago. I don't want you to be like her – I don't expect you to try to replace her by becoming what she was. I want you to simply be yourself. You and Lizzie are not the same person." He squeezed her hand. "If there was one thing I desired from you, it would be for you to come home to New York with me."

"I – I can't. I can't leave the Hellmouth unguarded. It would mean badness."

"Hellmouth?" Charles asked, remembering that she had used that word once before, although she hadn't explained it, and he'd been too focused on trying to figure out why it was his daughter who had the burden of being the Slayer to pursue the topic.

"Sunnydale sits on a Hellmouth - a mystical gateway that leads to a hell dimension. Call it Disneyland for vampires, demons, and all other bad evil things," his daughter replied. "If the Slayer isn't here to guard it, evil would have a free access point to our world, Sunnydale would become an all-you-can-eat buffet, and lots and lots of badness would happen."

Charles blinked. _How is such a thing possible?_ he wondered, although he knew better than to ask that question. He was quickly coming to realize that everything he thought he had known about the world – all the years he'd spent as a scientist trying to understand, all the experiments that he'd conducted to understand nature, genetics, and evolution, meant very little when compared to things like vampires, witches, and demons. _And now hell dimensions_, he reminded himself.

"It's all true, Dad," his daughter said when he didn't respond, reading his face easily. "The Hellmouth is right under Sunnydale High – right under the library, in fact. It really gives new meaning to the phrase 'high school is hell'."

"But this Hellmouth is the reason you can't come to New York, or consider enrolling at New York University?" he asked.

"Uh huh. Unless I find someone else capable of holding back the tide of evil – which even for me is hard – or the Hellmouth suddenly relocates to Bayville – which I would never wish on anyone – I'm stuck here." She shrugged, although she didn't appear happy. "UC Sunnydale is a good enough school, at least according to Giles and Willow."

"But if there was any way that you could come…" he began.

"I'd leave Sunnyhell in a heart beat," she finished. "I hate this town."

Charles looked her in the eyes, feeling a swell of determination. His daughter's entire life was not going to be dictated by the fact that she was the Slayer, or a mutant. He wanted her to be happy; he wanted her to have a life that she loved. "I will find a way to make it happen, Elizabeth. Your life shouldn't be constrained because you're the Slayer."

If anything, instead of being reassured by his promise, her eyes grew bleaker. "Don't make a promise you can't keep. I've been betrayed too many times. I'm not going to get my hopes up."

His determination firmed. Surely, somehow, with the power and resources at his command, he could find a way to help his daughter escape the trap that being the Slayer had cast over her life. "You belong in New York, with a chance to live your life. That's all I want for you, Elizabeth." He squeezed her hand again, before he changed the topic. He'd need to speak with Mr. Giles soon. Surely the former Watcher would be able to give him some more information that could help him free his daughter. "But I won't say anything more about it." He dropped her hand. "Would you like to do some more training with your telepathy?"

She looked uncertain, but nodded slowly. "Um, all right."

"How have your shields been holding up?" Charles asked, wondering if the events of the previous night had been unusual enough that she felt like she was losing control of her powers. Eventually, he'd have to test her to her breaking point – find out exactly at what point she couldn't control her powers so that he could help her overcome her limits and move beyond them. It would also be interesting to see how her powers increased over time. His powers had built at a fairly steady level once they had emerged, although the initial few years had been filled with random occurrences of them manifesting outside his control. Jean's, on the other hand, was one of peaks and plateaus. Her powers swelled and strengthened, leveled out for a short time, then peaked again. He worked with her intensely to keep her powers from exploding beyond her control, and he hoped she was remembering to do her psychic drills and meditations.

"Fine," Buffy told him. "I've been doing that little check you taught me, but most of the time it seems like I don't even have to think about it any more."

He blinked in surprise. That was rather unexpected, but he was also worried. That type of confidence could be a symptom of false control – and if her powers suddenly surged and broke loose, her confidence could be shattered, and it would be that much harder for her to regain control, especially if her powers went rogue on her and she accidentally hurt someone. Two days to master telepathic shielding…that couldn't be a good sign. "You haven't felt like your shields have been wavering, or that you were losing control?"

She shook her head. "No. Should I?"

"I wouldn't have expected you to master shielding that quickly," he replied cautiously. "It took me years to learn conscious control over my powers, although once I realized I could shield my mind, it was only a matter of months before I worked out what I needed to do. Most of my students took at least a year to fully grasp the concept, especially the ones who aren't telepathic. Jean picked it up a little faster, but that was what I was working most intently on with her for several months."

* * *

Buffy smiled. "Oh, don't worry about it. It's a defensive tactic…Slayers learn fighting forms and tactics very quickly – it's a survival trick. What you showed me was just another form of learning control, once I understood the concept, it became second-nature. That's what Giles would say, anyway. A Slayer who doesn't learn quickly is a dead Slayer."

Her father frowned deeply at that reminder that her life was exceedingly dangerous. She was just grateful that she hadn't yet told him that she had already surpassed the average life expectancy of a Slayer. "But if the control is tenuous and your powers break free, the damage that you could do could be extensive," he countered.

"Isn't that true of any kind of ability?" she replied.

Her question appeared to make him pause as he considered his response. "In a fashion, yes," he finally answered. "I'll want to keep a close eye on your progress until I'm sure your control isn't just an illusion," he added. "Especially until I have some idea how quickly your powers will strengthen and grow. Jean seems to go in surges, while mine was a steady progress. There's no real way to predict how yours will manifest, or at what point they'll reach their upper limits."

She shrugged. She was used to Giles keeping close tabs on her progress. Wesley wasn't as good at it as Giles had been, but then again, she avoided contact with Wesley as much as possible. It wasn't just a dislike for his pompous arrogance, although that was part of it. A lot of what he tried to "teach" her was bluster and bluff – the part of her that was the Slayer recognized it in his posture, his tone, and his somewhat awkward answers when she called him on it. That didn't exactly inspire her to report every detail to Wesley the way she had with Giles – especially after what Wesley had done to Faith when he abducted her from Angel and tried to take her back to England for Finch's death. "Sounds fine to me."

"I'd like to work with you on the actual communication part of using your powers – which does require you to drop your shields," he told her.

She was a little uneasy about that, after everything she had 'heard' during her last bout of telepathy. She didn't particularly want to be bombarded by the thoughts of everyone around her.

Her father seemed to sense what she was thinking. "I know it feels uncomfortable, Elizabeth. In the beginning, using telepathy can feel like you are invading someone's privacy, especially when you have no control. But as you learn control and you practice using your powers, they'll become natural. Eventually, it will feel more unusual to _not_ use them, than it is to use them."

She let out a slow breath. "It just feels…wrong, I guess. When I had the demon telepathy, it seemed like all I was hearing was the pain around me – the jealousy, the anger, the frustration. And high school boys have seriously dirty minds."

He smiled a little at that. "Well, I have excellent control of my thoughts, so you won't have to worry about picking up anything that I don't want you to. As you get better at using your powers, you'll find that you are able to search for specific information, and selectively tune out what you don't want to hear. Some of that has to do with vocal inflection and the way the person you're probing feels about the information – the more emotional they become, the easier it is to find the information, but a lot of it has to do with the skill and the finesse that you have with your powers."

Buffy nodded slowly. "I guess you're right."

"Do you want to try?" he asked gently. "There's no one else broadcasting loudly enough for me to detect them, so unless your powers are even stronger than mine, I'm the only person you should be able to sense. You do need to learn this, Elizabeth. It isn't a defensive tactic, but if you don't master both the defensive and offensive tactics, the offensive ones will remain out of control and they'll eventually control you."

"Yeah. Why not?" Buffy said with a sharp exhale. She rolled her shoulders to loosen some of the tension that had unconsciously gathered in her posture. "What do you need me to do?"

His blue eyes seemed to sharpen, as if he'd noticed her tension. "Elizabeth, I promise you that I know what I am doing. I have excellent control, and you won't sense anything so personal that I wouldn't want you to know it. If you do start to lose control, I can clamp down on your powers and show you how to regain it."

She nodded. "All right. What comes first?"

"Relax."

**_Don't forget to review! Lurkers, come out and play!_**


	44. Chapter 43: Improving Communications

**All right folks, here we go! Another new chapter, and this time I want to thank _vladt_ for being the 550th reviewer on TTH and _richierich_ for being the 360th reviewer on . That's over 900 reviews for this story between the two sites...I'm amazed folks! Keep 'em coming, and I'll keep the chapters coming!**

_**Chapter Forty-three: Improving Communications**_

_"The single biggest problem with communication is the illusion that it has taken place."_

_- George Bernard Shaw_

_Buffy's house…late Sunday afternoon…_

Buffy let out a slow breath and rolled her shoulders, trying to release some of the tension she was feeling in her neck and back. She closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating on one of Giles' meditative mantras to help her relax. It was ironic that he'd spent three years trying to teach these exercises to her, with little luck, only to have her father show up and suddenly she was using them to help her with her new powers. She really didn't like the idea of what she was about to do, which made it hard to relax, even with Giles' mantras. After everything that she had sensed during her bout with her demon telepathy, she was reluctant to lower the defenses that her father had taught her. She _liked_ the peace and quiet of her own mind.

Ever since her "death" at the Master's hands three years ago, she'd been able to sense the Slayer in her head, especially in a fight, but she was always there, even in the "calm" times. It was a restless, primal urge to hunt, to slay. Even at the best of times, it was difficult to ignore her, and when she'd gone a few days without a fight, it was almost impossible. In a fight, the Slayer seemed to increase her strength and skills, especially when the fight dragged on or she was fighting multiple opponents. It made her wonder what that had meant for all the other Slayers who hadn't been fortunate enough to make it a full year. Had the Slayer been so dormant inside them that they hadn't been strong enough to fight the forces of darkness? Giles had said something about the Slayer powers seeming to run unusually strong in her – was there a reason for that? A reason that she could sense the Slayer inside her mind?

But it wasn't really relevant for what she was about to do. Her father wanted – was trying – to get her to voluntarily let _more_ people inside her head, and the part of her that was still Buffy Summers recoiled at that. It was all well and good for him to find telepathy to be natural, to want to know what other people were thinking, but she would be perfectly happy to hide behind these new shields for the rest of her life.

_But this is important to him,_ she reminded herself. _And he hasn't been wrong yet about these powers. If he's right again, I can't afford not to know this, even if I never use it._

What he was saying made sense to her, at least from a tactical standpoint. If her powers could be used offensively and defensively, just learning the defensive parts wouldn't give her offensive control. It was like self-defense lessons – it was one thing to know how to break away from an attacker if you were grabbed, but it was something completely different to know how to do enough damage to keep an attacker down long enough to escape.

She just didn't want to open herself up to all of that pain again.

Something of what she was feeling must have shown on her face, because when she finally manage to relax and opened her eyes, her father was looking at her compassionately. "I can help you Elizabeth, if you can bring yourself to trust me. I can teach you the techniques that you need to know, and if you practice, you won't need nearly as long to gain control of your powers as it took me."

"It's not the control I'm worried about," she admitted. She wasn't. Once he showed her, she knew that the part of her that was the Slayer would learn quickly.

He frowned for a moment, before understanding joined the compassion in his blue eyes. "You don't want your powers overwhelmed."

"I thought I was going to go crazy the last time. All the pain, all the anxiety…"

Her father only nodded before he closed his eyes. A moment later she felt the brush of a presence against her shields, like someone was "knocking" and asking for admittance. She hesitated for a moment, before she lowered her shields a tiny bit. She assumed that the presence was her father, but this _was_ the Hellmouth, and if she was wrong she wanted to give whoever it was as little access to her mind as possible.

_It's all right, Elizabeth. Let me in please, and I can help you overcome the fear._

It certainly sounded like her father, so with a little more confidence she lowered her shields further and let him in.

_Telepathy isn't all about pain, Elizabeth. There's a joy – a purity of thought – involved as well. Let me show you…_ A wave of emotion flooded through her – warmth, love, comfort, peace – followed by images, things she'd never seen before but that she instinctively knew were her father's memories.

"_**Charles, stop!" a beautiful blonde woman laughed, pushing him aside, gently. "What has gotten into you today?"**_

"_**I'm just happy to be with you, Lizzie. It's a beautiful day, I only have one more final left, and we're together. What is there not to be happy about?"**_

_**With a warm smile that lit up her face, Lizzie stepped closer to him and allowed him to slip an arm over her shoulders and pull her close to cuddle against him as they walked together.**_

"_**I love you, Elizabeth Michaels." His words were soft, but heartfelt, and she looked up at him in surprise.**_

"_**Charles…I…" she seemed to be speechless. "That's the first time…" She fell silent for several seconds before she spoke again. "I love you, Charles Xavier."**_

_**He leaned down and very gently brushed his lips against hers. He pulled back slightly, gauging her response, before he leaned forward again and brushed her lips again, this time feeling her reciprocate.**_

_That was the first time I admitted how much I loved your mother, Elizabeth. We had been dating for two years, but I hadn't ever told her about my feelings. Two weeks later, I asked her to marry me, and she said yes._

Buffy blinked as the memory faded from her mind. What her father had shared with her – there had been no pain, only joy. After what she had experienced, and what Wesley had said about her being more likely to sense the things that her friends least wanted her to know, she had been afraid that the pain in other people would always overwhelm her. She felt enough pain of her own – she didn't need to feel it from the whole world too.

Then she realized – she had allowed her father in, but she had not been bombarded. She had seen and heard only what he wanted her to, and he had been the only person she had sensed, unlike the last time when she had been hearing from _everyone_!

_Do you see? When you have full control, you __**are**__ the one in control," _her father said_. As you practice you'' become better about sensing what parts of a mind to avoid, and you'll get better about controlling what you hear and send._

A sudden thought occurred to her. Concentrating on the way her father's "voice" felt, she tried to reply to him. _Are you seeing my memories now?_ She and her father had already done some communicating in this fashion before, but she had never been sure that she was doing it right. The last thing she needed was for him to find out the truth about Angel or her "death" from her own mind while her control was minimal. _Can you even hear me?_ she added, belatedly.

_Of course I can hear you, my dear. And no, I am not seeing your memories. I would not pry like that without a __**very**__ good reason._

A moment later, her father's presence vanished from her mind. He opened his eyes and met hers. "It is quite simple, as you can see, Elizabeth. Do you want to continue?"

She thought about it for a second. "All right."

He smiled. "This time I'd like you to try entering my mind. All you need to do is lower your shield and envision yourself reaching out towards me. I'll have my shields down to make it easier for you. As you get better at establishing the connection, I'll start raising my defenses."

Buffy nodded. "Okay." That seemed simple enough, even for her. She hesitated. "Do I have to close my eyes?"

"Only if it helps you focus. I don't need that focusing tool any longer, unless I am trying an extremely long-range communication, but sometimes I still close my eyes because it makes other people more comfortable if I'm not staring at them."

Buffy considered that for a moment. She didn't want to get into the habit of closing her eyes every time she used her powers. If she ever got into a situation where she had to use them when she was in the middle of a hand-to-hand fight, closing her eyes would only be inviting a pummeling when her enemy took advantage. The Slayer part of her was adamant about that. "I think I'll try it without first," she decided.

He nodded. "I'm ready whenever you're ready."

Buffy let out a slow breath to calm her nerves before she lowered the shields that she had automatically raised when her father pulled away before. She braced herself, half-expecting an influx of thoughts, but there was nothing. Concentrating on her father's instructions, she imagined herself reaching out to him.

Immediately she felt him make contact, gently pulling her in, but all she "heard" was a simple, _Well done. Now try it again._

Her confidence bolstered, she tried again, and again she felt him accept her, hold her close again, then release her.

Trying to suppress a smile, she did it again.

_Perfect my dear. You are doing very well. I am amazed how quickly you are picking it up – and your mind is remarkably calm. I half-expected to be inundated by your thoughts._

_That would be Giles,_ she replied. _He's spent the last three years trying to teach me meditation techniques. _She allowed genuine warmth and affection to fill her as she thought about Giles. His books, his knowledge, his willingness to pick up a sword or stake – all of those things had kept her alive. She owed him a great deal more than she could repay.

For a moment, she thought she felt a brief bit of disquiet and envy, but it vanished before she had done more than notice it.

_Mr. Giles has taught you very well, Elizabeth. Try again._

* * *

Charles couldn't help the little swell of envy that blossomed when his daughter spoke of Mr. Giles with such affection. She probably wasn't even aware of the emotion that was carried along with her mental voice. Just like with verbal speech, a mind-voice could take on a variety of tones and intimations of emotion – yet more evidence of how closely empathy and telepathy were related.

He quickly squashed that envy of course. No matter how he personally felt about the strong relationship his daughter had with Mr. Giles, it was not his place to judge. He had promised Elizabeth that he would try not to pass judgment on her life, because she was right about one thing – he had not been around long enough, nor did they know each other well enough to give him that right. Just because he was her father, he had no right to dictate how she should live her life.

He released her from his mental hold, pulled back, and reset himself, waiting for her to try again. The more she did this, the easier it would become, and the more her confidence in her telepathy would increase. This exercise had the additional side benefit of increasing her familiarity with his mental patterns, as well as strengthening their bond. He wanted her to feel comfortable enough to use her telepathy to hold a casual conversation with him without thinking about it.

After he had told Lizzie about his powers, she'd been a little uneasy at first, but after she'd had time to think about it and understand how tightly he held himself under control and how important his ethics in regards to using his powers were, she accepted it. Her love for him had been strong enough to overcome her unease, and once she grew used to the idea, she even grew to like it. He was able to "whisper" to her without needing to use a phone, and their bond had been strong enough that, although not telepathic herself, she'd only had to think at him for him to hear her, even when she'd been at her clinic and he'd been at the university lecturing. That confident, easy rapport was what he wanted with his daughter.

Once again he sensed her reach out and he gently grabbed her and pulled her in. She was doing very well with this exercise. Of course, this was made easier by the fact that they were only a few feet from each other. Distance could and did make this more difficult – so now it was time to up the challenge. _Very good, Elizabeth. However, distance is another factor that you need to take into account when you're using your powers. I am going to go into the dining room, and I would like you to try to find me._

He saw her bite her lip, then nod determinedly. He released her and raised his shields, then steered his chair out of the living room and into the dining room. He was careful to remain within her line of sight. There would be time later to work with her on a blind communication – not being able to see each other – but that was a little more advanced considering how new she was to her powers. If she could master this much today, he would then need to show her how to make a connection when his shields were up – "introducing" herself to him so that he would lower his shields for her before they made a complete connection.

Elizabeth still had a lot to learn before she had full control, but he could take it slowly and let her confidence increase in increments. This was the same way he had taught Jean, but Jean had not had to overcome the memory of having her powers overwhelmed. Jean's telepathy had emerged slowly, and she had already known the basics of shielding her mind by the time they realized that she was telepathic as well as telekinetic. She'd never even considered that she might fail or that her powers could be overwhelmed when he'd begun teaching her to control her blossoming telepathy.

He faced her and lowered his shields again, making a cursory sweep to make sure they were still alone and that there were no other minds that could overwhelm her. But his daughter was the only one within his sensing range, so he nodded to himself. "All right, Elizabeth. Try it again," he called.

He saw her concentration and waited. She should be able to do this with ease now. There was no difference in the technique needed for this just because the distance was greater. The only thing that she had to change was the amount of her power she used to reach him. If she could manage it even once, her confidence would soar and make it all the easier next time.

After several seconds, he felt the tentative brush of her thoughts, but unlike before he didn't reach out and grab her right away – that first brush had been too gentle. For this exercise he wanted her reach out boldly. Subtlety would come later, with practice.

When he didn't react, he saw her frown and the concentration deepen on her face. A moment later he felt her touch again, and this time it was stronger and bolder, so he didn't hesitate to reach out and catch her, pulling her in.

_I did it!_ she cried, sounding pleased with herself.

_Yes, you did, Elizabeth. You are learning control and gaining confidence. As your confidence increases, your control will firm,_ he praised her.

_This isn't as bad as I thought it would be,_ she admitted.

_Just keep in mind that this is the easy stage. Right now it's just you and I. It becomes more difficult when you're in a crowd. But there will be plenty of time to teach you to use your powers in a crowd. Try again._

Just before he released her, he felt a surge of unease and resignation, but there were no clear thoughts or words behind the feelings, which made him wonder if his daughter truly was manifesting an empathic gift as well. At her age, it would be hard to determine for sure, because teenagers by nature were emotional creatures. While she very well could be mildly empathic _now_, it didn't follow that she would always be so. As her telepathic control increased, the emotional sendings he was getting from her could very well cease. It would be something to watch for in the future. But more importantly, why had he sensed those particular emotions? Could it be linked to her previous experiences with telepathy? Or was it tied to something else?

* * *

_Sunnydale High Library…same time…_

"Mr. Giles!" Wesley's strident voice called.

Giles looked up from his reading at the sound of his name. The documents Roberta had sent him were quite informative, and he was beginning to understand the unusual timing of Dr. Xavier's appearance. He still had some more cross-referencing and verifying to do, but if his suspicion turned out to be true, it would be earth-shattering and would make him look twice at everything he thought he knew about the Slayer.

But Wesley was demanding attention now. He carefully put down the pages he was reading as he rose to his feet. As he exited his office, he pulled the door closed behind him. He wasn't ready for Wesley – and thus the Council – to know what he was working on, for they would question where the archive information had come from. He hadn't received it until after Dr. Xavier arrived, and that hadn't been until several months after he had been fired. That would put Roberta in trouble with Quentin.

"What do you want, Wesley?"

"I must demand that you stop your little plots and conspiracies with Miss Summers," Wesley said pompously. "Thus far, I have allowed you to interfere with the Slayer, against my better judgment, but you have gone too far. You neglected to inform me of the truth of the Slayer's parentage, you have continually undermined my authority by trying to perform my responsibilities, and you conspired with Miss Summers, a vampire, and a gaggle of schoolchildren to launch an ill-conceived attack on the Mayor that completely backfired as a result. You were told by the Head that if you chose to remain in Sunnydale, you were not to interfere –"

"Wesley, for God's sake, shut up," Giles snapped, interrupting the tirade. "You whine worse than a bloody two-year-old." As Wesley sputtered in indignation, Giles advanced on him. "One, I no longer work for the Council, so I do not have to abide by Quentin's edicts. Two, Buffy came to me in confidence, as a friend and mentor, _not_ as her Watcher. Thus, I was not bound to repeat anything to the Council. Third, my loyalty is to Buffy. She was tortured and abused by _my_ hands at the whim of the Council – and I will do what I must to prove myself to her and to help her save lives. We had no way of knowing that Faith was lurking around, and had she not captured Willow, the plan would have worked."

"I must report this to the Council," Wesley said, finding his voice again. A deeply offended and angry look was on his face, but Giles could care less.

"Do what you want – you and Quentin are the perfect pair. You're both so full of yourselves and worried about your self-image and self-importance that you can't see the forest through the trees. The Council has become so pedantic and arrogant that they're the next thing to useless. Buffy's right though – who her father is has no bearing on her Slayer duties."

He said it, but he knew it wasn't true, especially if his suspicion turned out to be true. But right now he had to keep the Council from connecting the same dots that he had – assuming of course, that they didn't already know. If the Council was behind the kidnapping of Elizabeth Xavier, then they would already know who Buffy's father was. Giles just couldn't see, given what he knew about Charles Xavier, why the Council would have felt the need to remove Buffy from his care.

"I promise you one thing, Wesley," he continued. "If the Council tries to come after me for my interference, they will regret it dearly. Buffy will fight tooth and nail to help me – and there is nowhere they could go that she wouldn't hunt them down." Giles smiled, grimly, letting a hint of his inner Ripper out to play, watching Wesley recoil. "And if Buffy learns that it was you who called the Council…I wouldn't want to be you."

Turning away from Wesley, he walked back to the table and resumed his study of Willow's pilfered pages. He wanted to continue looking at Roberta's information, but he didn't dare until Wesley had left. He was tired of Wesley's arrogance, his immaturity, and his innate cowardice. When Quentin Travers had fired him and informed him that a new Watcher would be sent to Buffy and Faith, he had been upset, but he'd had hopes that the new Watcher would be at least somewhat like him, since that was the kind of relationship that his Slayer needed. But instead, they had received Wesley – one of Quentin's flunkies.

He still regretted agreeing to go through his part in the Cruciamentum – only his oaths to the Council had convinced him that it was necessary. But the memory of the look of betrayal on Buffy's face when he'd told her what he'd done still haunted him, despite the fact that she'd forgiven him. It had been part of his nightmares for weeks afterwards.

Buffy had become very special to him. She had wormed her way past his defenses within days of their first meeting, but the first time he'd really realized it was when she had been cursed by Mrs. Madison with the Bloodstone Vengeance spell. The weak, pain-filled look she'd given him when he'd been preparing to work the counter-spell had ripped through him. He'd sworn to himself in that moment that he would do his best to protect her – as much as the Slayer could be protected at any rate. They had been so close, right up to the Cruciamentum. When she'd run away after sending Angel to hell, his only thought had been to find her and bring her home.

With a small start, he realized that, without him being consciously aware of it, he'd begun to look at Buffy as if she were _his_ daughter. Oh, she could be stubborn and rebellious at times, but to counter that she was kind, loyal, brave, and deeply compassionate.

Was _that_ the reason for his unease? Could he simply be seeing Dr. Xavier as a rival for Buffy's affections? The man _was_ her biological father after all. He would, of course, want to get to know his child, to try to win her affections. Buffy had been kidnapped, and as a result, Dr. Xavier had missed out on her entire life. What sane man _wouldn't_ want to get to know his child under those circumstances?

But – to Giles – it felt like he would lose Buffy. Logically, he knew that wouldn't happen. He and Buffy were bound by shared experiences, shared grief and horrors, as well as an established Watcher/Slayer bond. Their relationship was deeper than he suspected that she or Dr. Xavier realized, and he doubted that it would ever totally erode. But emotionally, he cared about her. Her fear of dying young, like so many Slayers before her, had made him want to do anything to give her a chance at a long, happy life. He would even die for her, if it was necessary.

He didn't notice when Wesley left, so deep in thought was he.

* * *

_Bayville, New York…_

_Brring, brring. Brring, brring._

Doctor Susan McGee looked up from the patient files she was updating on her computer at the sound of her phone. Only a few people had her direct office extension – a patient would have called her cell phone or paged her, and none of her patients had this number anyway. She reached toward the receiver and answered it, wedging the phone between her shoulder and ear so that she could continue to work while she spoke. "Hello?"

"_Hello, Susan. 'Tis Moira McTaggert. How're ya doing?"_

"Moira! This is a pleasant surprise," Susan said with genuine happiness. "I'm wonderful, how are you?"

"_Na complaints,"_ the Scottish woman said cheerfully. _"Ya must be so excited by the news, though. I know I was."_

"News? What news?" Susan asked.

"_Why, Charles' news. I know how surprised I was when he told me, so I cannae imagine how you must feel."_

"Moira, slow down. You've completely lost me. I spoke to Charles a few days ago, but he didn't mention anything about good news to me. I was just shocked to hear from him after sixteen years."

There was complete silence from the other end of the phone, as if Moira couldn't believe what she was hearing. Susan had never given up completely on Charles, but he'd made it quite clear that he was not willing to speak to her. She had stuck by him all through the initial investigation into Elizabeth's disappearance, the hearings after he'd been accused of having something to do with the disappearance, and the next year of continued searching. When the FBI had given up the search, he'd begun pushing her away. When the private investigator he'd hired also gave up on the search, Charles had retreated completely from the rest of the world. He stopped returning her phone calls and letters, wouldn't allow her to come and visit him – he isolated himself to the point where he never left his grand old mansion.

Finally, she had understood and stopped trying to reach him. She still sent him Christmas and birthday cards, trying to let him know that she still cared about him, but he never replied. Moira was the only person whom he had stayed in contact with for the last sixteen years.

If she didn't like and trust Moira so much, and if she hadn't cared for Charles as much as she had, she would have been jealous of the other woman's ability to reach Charles. After all, she had been Lizzie's best friend, and she'd known Charles for several years before he met Moira. But all she wanted was for Charles to be safe and happy. If Moira was the only one he felt he could talk to, who was she to argue?

In the months between Lizzie's death and Elizabeth's abduction, he had seemed to be the same caring man that she had known for years. His grief had been intense for a few months, but then he had accepted Lizzie's death and moved on. Then Elizabeth had disappeared and Charles' grief had overwhelmed him. In the initial months of Charles' withdrawal, she had been deeply hurt. She was convinced that Charles blamed her for not saving Lizzie, even though he had named her Elizabeth's godmother.

"_Susan…he…he dinnae tell you?"_

"Tell me what, Moira?"

"_He found her, Susan. Elizabeth is alive."_

The phone fell to the floor with a **clunk**. Susan felt light-headed all of a sudden and gripped the edge of the desk as noise – just noise – roared in her ears.

"_Susan? Susan?"_ Moira's thick Scottish accent sounded tiny as she called through the phone, but Susan couldn't bring herself to pick the receiver back up.

_Elizabeth is alive? He….he found her? How? After all these years? And he didn't tell me?_ Her thoughts were in a whirl. Charles _knew_ how much she had loved his daughter. She had promised Lizzie – or Lizzie's spirit anyway – that she would watch out for Charles and their beautiful daughter!

She had _promised_!

A throbbing pain in her hands drew her gaze distantly down. Her hands were clenching the edge of her desk so tightly they were white. She slowly released the desk, noting absently that the edge had imprinted a deep, throbbing groove into her palms, and her hands felt stiff. She flexed them slowly.

"_Susan! Are you there? Susan! Answer me!"_ Moira called.

Slowly, she reached down and picked up the phone. "I'm here, Moira," she breathed. "How…how long as he known…no, forget that. How did he find her?"

"_I think he's only known for a few days, and he dinnae tell me how he found her, Susan."_

"I can't believe he didn't tell me. He must have known when he called me on Friday – it's the first time he's talked to me in sixteen years! I – he…he even alluded to it!"

"_Susan…I'm sorry. I honestly thought that he would'ha called ye."_

"It's not your fault, Moira. You didn't know."

"_Will you be all right?"_

"Yes, I'll be fine," Susan assured her, although she still felt numb inside. "I'm glad you called me, Moira. I'll talk to you soon." She carefully hung up the phone, her mind whirling with the news. _Elizabeth is alive…she's alive!_

Why hadn't Charles told her?

* * *

_The Xavier Institute…same time…_

Logan smirked and began powering down the Danger Room, which for once was not nearly as wrecked as it normally was after such an intense session. The X-Men had done their very best, but Logan had been determined not to let them win this session on their first try, and Storm was fairly certain he'd thrown everything at them save for the kitchen sink. With a flip of a switch, she turned the lights back on and noticed that they were all slowly beginning to come around from the low-level stun blasts that they'd been struck with.

Storm shook her head as she descended to the floor of the Danger Room on the lift and walked over to Jean, who was the first one to sit up, shaking her head.

_**The Danger Room exploded with noise and light. In one second, it went from pitch-black and soundless to total chaos. With strobe lights designed to cause confusion and disorientation blinking steadily, colored spot lights began flashing at random intervals making varied areas of light and shadow. The noise – sirens, crashes, bangs, and a pounding subwoofer – echoed and reverberated so loudly that audible speech was impossible. Under the cover of darkness, Logan had caused high walls to appear around them, creating a maze that they would have to navigate to get out of the room.**_

_Kitty, Kurt, move out! __**Scott ordered down the telepathic links Jean had established and was maintaining. **__Be careful!_

_**The two teens nodded, glanced at each other, and then stepped cautiously out of the starting square, edging forward carefully. Kitty was hovering at Kurt's shoulder, ready to grab him and phase him into immateriality, while Kurt was ready to grab her and teleport her back to safety if necessary.**_

_**Scott, Evan, Jean, and Rogue moved out equally slowly once Kitty and Kurt had moved far enough ahead of them to scout. They stayed grouped together closely enough that they could cover each other, but not so tightly that one trap would take them all out simultaneously. Evan's entire body was tense, ready at any moment to shoot out one of the spikes that had given him his code name. Scott's hand was hovering near his visor's trigger, ready to open the ruby quartz shield and blast any danger that threatened.**_

_**Suddenly, a spiked spanner rose up from the floor between the four of them and the two scouts who had already moved past it. Each end of the spanner had a different wicked instrument on it – one arm was spiked, one had massive iron balls, one had a device that looked like the beater from a beater, and the fourth had one of the turrets that Storm had warned them about.**_

_Spike! Hit that turret!_ _**Scott shouted down the link. **__Kitty! Kurt! Turret behind you!_

_**As Kitty and Kurt hit the deck to avoid the stun blast that whizzed over their heads a split-second later, Spyke was already taking aim and launching a thick, fat spike from his arm like a missile, and Scott was blasting at the other arms of the spanner to clear a path.**_

_**Spyke's weapon impacted the turret directly in the barrel and with a miniature explosion, the turret was no longer a danger.**_

_**But before any of them could react, two more turrets unfolded from the wall to either side of them, firing at once. Evan hit the floor, rolling and coming up with several small spikes that acted like bullets exploding from his fingers to take out the turret on the right, but the turret on the left got off a shot before Scott was able to blast it, and the stun-beam caught Jean directly in the chest and she collapsed, unconscious, the telepathic links gone with her.**_

"_**Jean!" Scott yelled, unheard over the noise. But it was too late. Jean was out for the count, the first "casualty" of Logan's new program.**_

Jean looked around at the sight of the rest of her team slowly coming to. She counted heads, and then shook her red hair back from her face. "I take it that we failed?"

Storm looked around too. "I think that's a fair assessment," she agreed. "Are you all right?"

"Headache," Jean admitted. "I thought you said the stun bolts were going to be low-level?"

"I did. I didn't say that they would be weak enough to be completely ineffectual," Storm replied.

"_**Kitty! Kurt! Fall back!" Scott bellowed as he blasted the turret that had taken Jean out. He immediately turned his power on the two arms of the spanner that he hadn't had a chance to hit before Jean was tagged. Fortunately, the noise had ebbed enough that the two scouts were able to hear him. Kurt touched Kitty's shoulder and teleported her back to where the other three were waiting.**_

"_**Logan's taken out Jean, so our sure communication method is gone," Scott told them. "We have to be extra careful now, and stay closer together, because Jean's not here to relay for us."**_

_**Spyke turned to Rogue. "Can't you just absorb Jean's power and reestablish the links?" he yelled, so that he could be heard over the noise.**_

"_**No way, Porcupine!" Rogue shot back. "For one, Ah don't have Jean's control! Professor X was goin' to work with me on what to do if Ah ever did have to absorb Jean's power, but if Ah try it and he's not here to help me, Ah'll just get myself inta trouble. For two, the Professor promised me that he'd never ask me to absorb Jean's powers unless there was no other choice."**_

"_**We don't need Jean," Scott reminded them. "Her powers make it easy, but Logan is testing us to see if we can work without her. That's why he targeted Jean first. If Rogue can't act as a telepathic relay, we can't ask her to. We'll just have to be on our guard and watch each other's backs."**_

_**The others nodded and they turned back to the gauntlet that Logan had set up for them, before they moved out as a group, leaving Jean lying in the hallway. There wasn't anything they could do for her, and they didn't have any way to transport her that wouldn't burden them. She wouldn't be hurt if they left her there – although if this had been a real-life scenario they would have found a way to bring her along. Rogue **__could__** have carried her, but there was too much of a chance that she'd accidentally absorb Jean's powers.**_

Storm left Jean and moved over to where Scott was also coming to. The team leader had been the second one targeted by Logan, since his optical blasts were so destructive to the equipment. She knelt down by his side, gently checking to make sure his visor was still secure on his face. Scott's intense fear of losing his glasses or his visor and exposing his powerful (and potentially deadly) gaze to the common people caused him to check dozens of times a day to make sure that his eyes weren't exposed.

"Ohh…" Scott moaned slightly. No doubt he was nursing the same headache as Jean – the entire group would likely be feeling the headache for the rest of the evening. When Logan taught a lesson, he made sure that it would stick with them. "S-storm?"

"Yes, Scott. You're all right. Just sit there for a few minutes and let your head clear while I check on the others." She put one hand behind his back and helped support him as he slowly sat up.

"Ugh…" Scott groaned again before he dropped his head to rest against his knees.

_**The five of them moved down the corridor until they came to a cross-road. The lights were still bright and flashing, but the noise wasn't quite as deafening. It seemed that they were adjusting to it, and it wasn't quite as hard to hear each other as it had been. But as to which way they were supposed to go…that was another story.**_

"_**Nightcrawler, can you go high?" Scott asked. "See if you can find the door!"**_

"_Ja,__** one sec," Nightcrawler replied. With a small poof and the strong smell of brimstone, the blue, fuzzy skinned mutant vanished. A moment later, the sound of the turrets blasting erupted overhead and Kurt reappeared, breathing hard. "Wolverine isn't making this easy," he managed. "But I think we need to go to the right whenever we can. I only got a glimpse before the turrets targeted me."**_

"_**Okay, then let's go left," Scott said.**_

"_**Wait, huh?" Kurt said.**_

"_**Logan knows us," Scott explained, "He knows that you would use your powers to try to figure out the fastest way out of here, which probably means that he's got that way trapped. But if we take a more roundabout way, we should get through."**_

"_**Or, like, this could be a maze with only one way out," Kitty argued.**_

"_**Can you phase all five of us through everything?" Scott asked.**_

"_**Like, no. The most I've ever done was three besides me, and that was in a life or death situation," Kitty replied.**_

"_**Then we have to try to be sneakier than Logan if we're going to get out of this," Scott said.**_

"_**I don't know man," Evan said. "Logan's got a lot of experience on us. I think he can anticipate anything we try."**_

"_**Well we can't just stand here or we'll fail anyway," Scott said. "We can always double back if I'm wrong."**_

_**The other four looked at each other and shrugged, then followed Scott's lead. The Professor had picked him to be the team leader after all.**_

_**Up in the control room, Logan grinned and shook his head. "Overconfidence, One-Eye, will always be your downfall." He typed in a series of commands into the console in front of him.**_

Ororo stepped over to her nephew and watched as he rose to his feet, shaking his head. "I do not recommend that," Evan commented as he shook his head and covered his eyes from the bright lights.

"Are you all right, Evan?" Ororo asked.

"Uh huh, Auntie O. What happened? I don't even remember getting tagged."

_**Without warning, a pit opened up directly underneath Scott's feet and he fell. "Heey! Whoa!"**_

_**Nightcrawler reacted immediately and dove after Scott, grabbing his flailing arm before he ported them back to the top. But in the time that they had been gone, two more turrets had popped up. Kitty had managed to phase Rogue out, but Evan got caught in the cross-fire and took a direct hit. Scott and Kurt had barely reappeared when the second turret caught Scott in the back, hitting him in his blindside. Due to the wraparound nature of his visor, Scott had almost no peripheral vision.**_

_**As Scott collapsed, Kurt manage to port out of the way, landing on top of the turret and yanking the plug before the other one had a chance to lock on to him as well. With one turret disabled, Kitty let go of Rogue, phased back in, and ran over to the second one before she phased her arm out and passed it through the turret, shorting it out.**_

"_**Man, now we've lost Spyke **__and__** Cyclops!" Nightcrawler exclaimed. "We're in serious trouble."**_

Kurt was helping Kitty and Rogue to their feet when she turned away from her nephew. "Are you two all right?" Ororo asked, noticing the soft red glow in Rogue's eyes that indicated that she still had Scott's powers. Fortunately, when Rogue absorbed his powers, she had complete control over them, while Scott did not. Professor Xavier wasn't sure why that was, but he believed that it had something to do with the coma that Scott had been in after the plane crash that had killed his parents and younger brother. The head injury could have possibly damaged the part of Scott's mind that would have granted him conscious control of his gift, years before his powers awoke. But since Rogue's mind was fully intact, she had the control that Scott lacked, and thus no need for the visor.

_**Rogue knelt down immediately, stripping off one of her gloves as she did so, and touched Scott's face just long enough to take a short-term burst of his power. She felt the tingle in her hand that was the split-second precursor to her powers activating. She stiffened for a moment as Scott's memories rushed in to her mind, but she released him almost immediately, before the memories could take too much of a hold on her, and wrestled them back into the recesses of her mind the way the Professor had shown her.**_

"_**All right, we're gonna have to do this right now," Rogue said determinedly. "Kitty, there's only the three of us. Could you phase us through the walls now?" She put her glove back on as she spoke.**_

"_**Like, I can try, but I don't know if I can take us all the way. I've never tried to phase that many people for a long period of time. You'll have to hold onto me the entire way."**_

_**Rogue and Kurt glanced at each other and nodded, before they flanked Kitty, each of them on one side, with her in the middle, their hands resting on her shoulders. Kitty turned to face the way they had come, took a deep breath, and started moving, consciously trying to phase all three of them and maintain the phase long enough to get them to the door.**_

_**She didn't dare try to take them through the walls that Logan had set up, because if her powers failed, they could wind up trapped inside a wall, and dead. But if she could maintain the phase enough to avoid the traps, they might have chance of making it out without completely failing the scenario. Thus far, Logan and the Professor had yet to come up with anything that could affect her while she was immaterial.**_

Ororo glanced around the room as Logan descended in the lift and stood in the center of the room. Wolverine looked oddly impassive, staring at the six teens without any emotion on his face as they slowly gathered around the two adults.

"Git yerselves cleaned up, then meet in the War Room for a debrief," Logan ordered them after he'd allowed them to squirm for a few seconds. "Ten minutes."

Various replies of "Yes sir", "Okay", and "All right" came in response and the six of them trudged wearily out of the room towards the locker rooms to change out of their uniforms. Logan waited until they were gone before he turned to Storm with a grin.

"Well, we finally found something they can't master all at once. I'm lookin' forward to this."

"The Professor will be interested to hear how they did," Storm replied. "He's always emphasizing team-work, but they certainly didn't have much of that today."

"Well, to be fair, I was at the controls and I could adjust it to suit the situation," Logan admitted. "Next time I think I'll just program everything to run automatic and see how they do when I'm not changin' the rules on them."

_**Another pit had opened up beneath Kitty's feet as she led them through. Immaterial or not, she still had to answer to the laws of gravity, and before they could stop themselves they were tumbling. Kurt, having hold of Kitty's hand, had ported her safely back to the top, where she phased out immediately as Logan sprang the same trap that had caught Scott, and the stun rays passed harmlessly through her while Kurt went back for Rogue, who was sprawled in the bottom of the pit.**_

_**When Kurt arrived back at the top, he and Rogue were immediately forced to leap and tumble out of the way of several traps that were launched simultaneously. Kitty had managed to short out the two turrets, but had stumbled and lost control of her phase when Logan made the floor plate rise quickly ten feet into the air. She'd tumbled from her perch, and immediately gotten stuck having to dodge several of the traps that had caught Rogue and Kurt. **_

"_**Rogue, like, move!"**_

"_**Kitty, **__aufpassen__**! Err…watch out!"**_

"_**Kurt, behind you!"**_

_**Logan wasn't giving Kitty a chance to concentrate long enough to phase, and eventually she was sent sprawling when a metal rod hit her in the back and shoved her forward, to land right at the base of a turret, which blasted her before she could react.**_

_**Rogue was using the power she'd borrowed from Cyclops to blast the traps, but there were too many of them and she wasn't as good about working the angles as Cyclops was. Cyclops had a natural gift for spatial geometry, and instinctively knew where to hit to inflict the most damage. He'd even once, trapped in the Danger Room on a solo run with several turrets, managed to hold a steady beam, reflect it off the walls, and take out six turrets with one blast, because of his ability with geometry. It also made him a wicked pool player, and the rest of the team had learned not to challenge Scott to that particular game.**_

_**So eventually, like Evan, Rogue got caught in the cross fire of multiple turrets, which left Kurt on his own. His agility and teleportation powers weren't enough to keep him "alive", and he fell only a few seconds after Rogue did.**_

Logan and Storm left the Danger Room together and headed into the War Room. A few minutes later, the six teenagers crept in and Logan let them have it.

"For a mission that was supposed to be about teamwork and communication, you didn't have much of the latter," he scolded them. "Red, you were an easy target because of your telepathy. Never assume that your enemies won't know your powers and be prepared to counter them." Logan turned to Scott next. "And you, One-Eye…bein' a leader is not about makin' all the decisions. You asked Kurt to do his job, then you completely went against what he told you, and blindly assumed that you could outthink me. What would you have done if this had been real life? Your arrogance cost your team both you and Spyke."

"Of all of you, Rogue, Kitty and Kurt worked together the best," Logan continued. "But Rogue, you gotta be ready to pick up any slack. I know why you didn't want to take Jean's power, but as soon as the Professor gets back, you gotta get the training to be able to control it – because you never know when you'll get put in a situation where you don't have a choice. That's your first priority, and I'll make sure the Prof knows." Rogue only nodded silently.

"Porcupine, and Half-pint, you two did the right thing by challenging One-Eye, but you gave in too easily. You should have kept pushing – don't ever follow blindly," Logan growled. "And Elf, you need to think outside the box, same as Red. If you rely on your power and never try other things, yer gonna be a sittin' duck."

"Now, we'll be runnin' this scenario again, so think about the things that you did this time, and be ready to make changes the next time it comes up. That's all," Logan finished.

As the six teens slunk out of the room, Storm turned to Logan. "You were a little harsh…" she began.

"No such thing. If they don't learn it now, and learn it good, what'll they do when we're finally exposed and they get stuck in a real life situation? They have to be able to act, and react to anything thrown at them without thinkin' about it. Better to be harsh now, when its practice, than to watch them suffer for real."

"Perhaps, but they're still rather young," Storm tried again, only to be interrupted by the proximity alarm sounding. She frowned and stepped over to the computer, activating the cameras on the outside. The one near the gate showed a sensible compact pulling up to the locked gates. Storm switched the camera angle to the one near the control panel along the driveway and focused on a woman who was probably around the Professor's age, in her late forties or early fifties. She had dark brown hair that was tied back into a bun, but her brown eyes were filled with an angry, determined light.

Storm glanced over at Logan. "Do you know her?" she asked.

Logan studied the image on the screen then shook his head. "Nope."

The woman pressed the buzzer and Storm answered it. "Xavier Institute for Gifted Students. May I help you?"

"_I need to see Charles Xavier."_

"Professor Xavier isn't here at the moment," Storm replied. "May I ask who is calling for him?"

"_My name is Doctor Susan McGee. It's urgent that I speak to him right away."_

Storm glanced at Logan again. "What do you think?" she asked quietly.

"The lady looks pissed," Logan observed. "I don't think she'll go away."

Storm nodded. "I'll buzz her in then. See if one of the students can go and let her in." She turned back to the computer and pressed the button to transmit. "Please come in." She pressed the button to open the gates and watched on the cameras as the woman drove in.

Logan was on the mansion's intercom system. "Elf, put your best face on and head to the door to let in a guest. The rest of you, keep your powers in check." He glanced back at Storm after Kurt acknowledged the request. "Shall we?"

Storm nodded, grateful that she and Logan were both wearing regular clothing and not their uniforms, since they hadn't been running the scenario with the rest of the team that day. Together, they headed out of the War Room and towards the elevator.

**Don't forget to leave me a review! I would love to see some more people on the boards! I don't know where you're all hiding these days, but it's kinda depressing!**


	45. Chapter 44: Surprises of all kinds

_Okay, folks. New update for you, and this one has **got** to be the longest one to date, since it's almost 30 pages! Enjoy!_

_**Chapter Forty-Four: Surprises of All Kinds**_

"_Surprises are foolish things. The pleasure is not enhanced, and the inconvenience is often considerable."__ - __Jane Austen_

_The Xavier Institute…_

Kurt checked his appearance in a mirror that was hanging on the wall before he moved downstairs to do as Logan requested and let their guest in. He needed to be certain that his image inducer was still working, after all. He smoothed back his hair, then stepped into the foyer and headed to the front door where a woman with dark brown hair was waiting. He quickly turned off the alarm on the panel by the door – which was always turned on when the Danger Room was or had been used – before he opened it.

"Hello?" Kurt asked.

"I need to see Charles," the woman said abruptly, with almost no inflection in her tone.

"Erm…The Professor isn't here right now," Kurt told her. "Ms. Munro and Mr. Logan should be here in a minute if you'd like to sit and wait, though."

The woman looked around for a moment and Kurt saw an odd expression cross her face before she nodded and took a seat on one of the white leather couches that were placed around the foyer. She settled down, before she closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. She opened her eyes and looked up at Kurt. "I apologize. I've been rude." She offered her hand for Kurt to shake. "Hello, I'm Doctor Susan McGee."

Kurt hesitated. Underneath his holographic disguise, he was still wearing his uniform – including his gloves. He was usually careful not to let people – other than the X-Men - touch his skin because of the fine layer of blue fur that covered his entire body. He didn't know how to react – what would she do if she felt his gloves, or his three fingered hand, when to her eyes he had five fingers and wasn't wearing any gloves?

"I'm Kurt Wagner. It's nice to meet you," he said. "Sorry, my hands are a little sticky. I was making a snack in the kitchen."

Doctor McGee lowered her hand. "It's nice to meet you, Kurt. Are you one of Charles' students? I heard from a friend that he had turned his home into a school."

Kurt nodded. "Yes. Are you a friend of the Professor's?"

She nodded. "We've been friends for almost thirty years." She looked interested. "You speak German?"

"_Ja._ I lived there before the Professor invited me to come here."

"How long have you been here?"

Kurt thought for a moment. "About four months."

"You speak English very well," she complimented him. "If it weren't for your accent, I would have thought you were American."

A great deal of _that_ was due to a telepathic crash course from the Professor a few days after he arrived in America, while he was still settling in. The Professor had wanted to make sure that he would fit in at Bayville High before he started there. Before meeting the Professor, Kurt had spoken very little English, but the Professor was fluent in German. "_Dank._" Suddenly realizing that she might not be fluent in his native tongue, he quickly amended, "Thanks."

"Elf."

"Logan!" Storm snapped.

Kurt glanced over his shoulder and spotted Logan and Storm entering the room from the hallway that led to the elevator. "It's all right, Ms. Munro," he said quickly, before he glanced at Doctor McGee, who had a look of curiosity on her face at the nickname. "The others call me that because I dressed up as one for your Halloween." He smiled at her. "It was nice to meet you, Doctor. _Abschied."_ With that he turned and left the room, wondering the whole way why the doctor wanted to see the Professor.

* * *

Stepping back into the mansion was like stepping into the past. Apparently, Charles had changed nothing in the last sixteen years. Everything was still neat and tidy, and Susan saw several things that she knew had been Lizzie's touches on the house after she and Charles had married.

Talking with the young man, Kurt, had been a welcome distraction from seeing the mansion again. After she and Lizzie had finished medical school and their residencies in New York and moved to Bayville to start their clinic, but before Charles and Lizzie had married, they'd both been frequent visitors to the mansion. Even after the wedding, Susan had been here three or four times a week for dinner, or to meet Charles and Lizzie before going out to a play, movie, or concert.

And of course, she'd all but moved in with Charles after Lizzie's death for two months or so, and then again when Elizabeth had disappeared. Everything was so _familiar_!

She studied the two new arrivals as Kurt left. The man was average height, with a stocky build and a somewhat heavy walk. His face was covered with a five o'clock shadow, and he had a rather untamed look about him – not what she would expect from a teacher at a private school. He was wearing jeans, scuffed brown boots, a black t-shirt, and a checkered shirt that was unbuttoned.

The woman, on the other hand, was the polar opposite. She had dark, chocolate skin, cool blue eyes, and ice-white hair that fell to her waist. She was tall and graceful, poised and in control. She was wearing an ankle-length purple skirt that had exotic African patterns embroidered around the hem, a white shirt with three-quarter sleeves, casual brown sandals, and a bright purple scarf that matched her skirt confining her hair like a headband, while her wrists and ankles had bracelets and she wore several rings on her fingers.

It was the woman who approached her. "Doctor McGee? I'm Ororo Munro, one of the teachers here at the Xavier Institute. This is Logan." She offered her hand. "Professor Xavier is not here right now. He's out of town on a personal matter."

"He's found his missing daughter," Susan said flatly, her anger flaring up again at the reminder. "I must talk to Charles immediately."

Both adults tensed. "You know about Elizabeth?" Ororo asked.

"Of course I know about her. I'm her godmother. I was Lizzie's – Charles' wife's – best friend and her partner at our clinic before she died. I've known Charles for over thirty years. I stood by Charles after Lizzie's death and the abduction until he shut me out, but I had to learn that he had found her from Moira McTaggert, one of our mutual friends."

"Look, lady, what Chuck does or doesn't tell you ain't our business, or yours," Logan said. "You got no right comin' here, demandin' to see the Prof like this."

* * *

"Logan!" Ororo snapped. "I'll take care of this. You need to go and check on the students. Do me a favor and look in on Evan and make sure he's working on his current affairs paper. I'll be up to talk to him in a few minutes."

Logan shrugged and ambled off, heading for the stairs. Ororo blew out a breath before she turned back to Doctor McGee. "I apologize for Logan. He's not exactly what you might call polished, but there's no one better at teaching physical education." She indicated the couches again. "Please, sit down."

"I just want to know how to get in touch with Charles," Susan replied. "I need to talk to him." She looked at Ororo beseechingly. "I promised his wife that I would take care of him, and of Elizabeth. I respected his grief and his need for isolation when he pushed me away, but Elizabeth _is_ my goddaughter. Has he even told Lizzie's parents that their granddaughter is alive?"

Ororo shook her head. "I am afraid I do not know. My understanding was that he wasn't going to tell anyone outside the school until he knew how she ended up in California."

"California? That's where she is?" Susan asked, hope flaring in her eyes. "Please, Ms. Munro, tell me where. I have to see him – to see her."

Ororo was torn. She could understand this woman's passion, considering the circumstances, but there had to be a reason that Charles had elected not to tell her that his daughter was alive.

"Please!" Susan pleaded. "I need to know. How would you feel if it was your godchild?"

Ororo hesitated for another moment before she nodded. "I would want to know too. He found her in Sunnydale, a few hours north of Los Angeles. He went out to talk to her, to get to know her, and to find out what happened to her when she disappeared."

A look of relief spread across the other woman's face. "Thank you, Ms. Munro. Thank you so much." She turned back to the door. "I won't trouble you any longer. It was nice to meet you." She pulled the door open, then paused and turned back. "I'm glad that you and the others are here. It's nice to know that Charles is opening up to the world again. He always loved teaching – I thought that he'd never step back into a classroom again after Elizabeth disappeared. Your students must be very special indeed."

With that, she stepped outside and hurried to her car. Seconds later, the car was heading down the drive for the gates that had been repaired after Sabretooth's rampage. Ororo went to the alarm panel and keyed the gates to open for her, then entered the code to close and lock them for the night, all the while thinking about what was going on.

Charles was not acting like himself lately. She'd noticed it before he went to Sunnydale, but it had become even more obvious when they had been in Sunnydale to help him the previous day. She was worried that if things didn't change _very_ soon, he would lose the loyalty he had inspired among the students, and given what he'd revealed to them recently, she didn't think he could withstand another loss of that magnitude without cracking. Even having his daughter back wouldn't substitute for the loss of the X-Men and the destruction of his dream of peace and unification. She resolved to bring the situation up to him when he called. He was due to call either tonight or tomorrow, at least that was what he had promised, and thus far she'd never known Charles Xavier to break a promise.

"Storm? What is it?" Jean had come up behind her quietly, a curious expression on her face as she caught sight of Storm standing near the front door staring down the drive at the locked gates.

"I would not want to be Professor Xavier right now," Storm replied quietly, before she left the room, heading for the stairs and her attic garden. Spending some time with her plants would help her work out what she needed to say to Charles when he called. This was too important an issue to delay until he returned. Even if he didn't speak to the students about it until his return, he needed to start thinking about it as well.

* * *

_Sunnydale High School…Monday, May 10__th__, 1999…_

Buffy stepped easily around a kissing couple as she headed for her locker. She knew Xander and Willow would probably be waiting for her, eager to know how the rest of her weekend with her father had gone.

There was also the Ascension to continue worrying about, the average run-of-the-mill Slaying, and of course her new telepathic powers. Plus, with graduation fast approaching, the last exams that she would have to take at Sunnydale were looming, as was the Prom, the end-of-the-year parties, and all the other things that the senior class was doing to celebrate. She also needed to make up her mind about what she wanted to do regarding a college within the next few days. Northwestern had told her that they needed a decision by the 20th, and Sunnydale needed to know by the first weekend in June. She still wasn't sure if her father was going to try to get her into a school in New York, but even if he did, she was pretty sure she would end up telling UC Sunnydale yes. But she needed to decide, and soon.

"Buffy!" Willow called as she approached her locker. "How was everything yesterday? Your dad was okay, right?"

"Yeah, Willow. He was fine. We had a nice, quiet day yesterday, just talking and stuff. We spent a while with him teaching me some more telepathic stuff, and we stopped to see Giles for an hour or so." She looked around. "Where's Xander?"

"He went to see what was going on with the guard that was killed on Saturday," Willow said in a soft voice, given the number of students milling around. Buffy noticed that the swelling around her black eye had gone down, but even with makeup, it was still rather visible.

"Are _you_ okay, Will? You've got quite a shiner there," Buffy observed.

"It's tender, but I can see fine, and it doesn't hurt unless I touch it," Willow assured her. She studied Buffy closely. "What's wrong, Buffy?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing. C'mon, Giles wanted to see us before class."

"Hey, are you and Angel going to Prom together?" Willow asked as they passed a poster advertising the dates of the ticket sales.

Buffy grinned. "If I have anything to say about it we are. I haven't had a chance to ask him yet, but he won't say no. Can you just imagine how hot he'll look in a tux?"

Willow returned her grin. "Well, Angel's hot to begin with, but in a tux? He'll definitely be drool-worthy. If I didn't have Oz, I'd be jealous. You're going to have one of the best looking guys – the other girls will flip. Hey, do you think Xander might ask Cordy to go with him? Neither of them have dates yet."

"Nah. Cordy still hasn't forgiven Xander," Buffy said. "But Xander will get someone. Besides, Wesley has a major crush on Cordy, and I think she likes him too. I don't get it, but I've never understood Cordy anyway, and I don't _want_ to understand Wesley."

Willow snickered just before Xander joined them. "Mornin' ladies. Apparently Snyder took care of the guard, because there's not even a rumor about it going around."

"Huh. That's weird, even for this school," Willow observed.

Buffy shoved open the double doors and stepped into the library. Giles and Wesley were both waiting for them in a tense silence. Giles had several books open and one of Willow's stolen pages in his hand.

The three of them stopped dead. "Giles? What's going on?" Buffy asked cautiously, noting Wesley's scowl.

"We know what the Ascension is, Buffy." Giles' voice was tense, but firm.

"You know what the Ascension is? You found it?" Buffy asked.

Giles nodded. "I was almost right yesterday. Ascension is when a human voluntarily becomes a demon, assuming the powers and abilities of said demon."

Silence met that pronouncement.

"Why would he want to do that?" Xander wondered.

"He's evil," Willow said promptly.

Xander thought about that one for a second. "I still don't get it."

Buffy moved closer to the table. "I don't particularly care why he wants to be a demon. I care about stopping him before graduation. Giles, are there any other rituals that he has to do before graduation? If we can spoil even one of them…"

"I don't know, Buffy. Frankly, the fact that we even found out what Ascension is, in my opinion, is a miracle. Willow grabbed exactly the right pages, and considering how much information was condensed on the pages, the fact that she was able to grab the right ones is astonishing. There are thousands of demon species, and each one of them must have their own specific set of rituals. Wesley's alerted the Council to look for anything connected with the Box of Gavrok, but that could take more time than we have." Giles sighed. "Unless we somehow figure out what species he is trying to become, I think our only chance is going to be on Ascension day."

"And that's assuming, of course, that the invulnerability he seems to have doesn't carry over after the ritual," Wesley added.

"Way to be a buzz-kill there, Wes," Buffy frowned at him. "All right, then we should start working out a plan so that we can splat him. First thing we need to do is figure out, other than beheading, silver, or stakes, what can kill a demon, and start stockpiling weapons. Given how hard it was to find information on this, I'm going to assume he's not going to become a run-of-the-mill type demon that I've fought before."

"I'd say that's a fair assumption," Giles agreed, just as the bell rang overhead. "We'll talk about it after school. Hurry off to class."

The three of them nodded and hurried out the door. Willow immediately started questioning Xander about who he was thinking of asking to the Prom. Almost out of habit, Buffy checked to make sure her telepathic shield was still in place. It was, and it was still strong. Now, provided that she could avoid Snyder, Sunnyhell didn't choose today of all days to be chaos-inducing, and she passed her English test, her stress level should remain low enough that she wouldn't have to worry about losing control of her shield and overhearing thoughts. And that was exactly the way she liked it.

She suddenly stopped in the hallway as she realized something – the idea that she was telepathic was becoming natural. Just like her father had told her it would. She didn't know why she was so surprised. Her Slayer powers were normal to her now, and had been for three years, so why her telepathy shouldn't be the same way, she didn't know.

_This…it really isn't that bad_, she thought. _It may not be useful in Slaying, but it's not the curse I thought that it was going to be when Angel and Giles told me that it was going to be a permanent part of me._

Another benefit to these new powers was that they had helped her find and connect with her biological father. Given Hank Summers' abandonment of her, she was starting to feel rather glad that she _wasn't_ his biological daughter. In less than a week, Doctor Xavier had been more of a father to her than Hank Summers had been in two years. She had never forgiven Hank for having her committed after Hemery. Instead of listening to her, he'd automatically assumed that she was crazy. In the three months that she'd been there while the divorce was rushed through, he'd never even come to visit her. She should have seen the writing on the wall then, but she'd never even considered that her father – or the man she'd thought was her father – would abandon her. He'd raised her for fifteen years, after all!

Anger over the abandonment wasn't strong enough to _completely_ erase those fifteen years that she had believed that Hank Summers was her real father, but she was coming to realize that if Doctor Xavier continued to try to accept her for who and what she was the way he had been, it would be very easy to simply write Hank Summers out of her life forever. In a way, she did need to talk to him, to try to understand why he had apparently abandoned her, though, and she was fairly certain that her father wanted to speak to him too, to find out if he knew anything about why she'd been kidnapped.

"Buffy! Come on, we're going to be late!" Willow called from down the hallway, having stopped when she realized that Buffy wasn't with them any more. Buffy blinked at her friend, and then hurried down the corridor towards her.

"Sorry, Wills. Just thinking."

* * *

_Delta Airlines, Flight 577 to Chicago…_

Susan was trying to read a book, but having very little luck. She was too tense, too nervous – and too angry. She still could not believe that Charles had not told her. _How hard could it possibly to pick up a phone?_ she wondered. Sixteen years of silence, and _then_ he called to apologize? She could forgive him – _had _forgiven – him for that, but she didn't know if she could forgive him for not telling her about Elizabeth.

She had come back from the mansion the previous night and immediately begun packing for a trip to California. After stopping at her clinic to let them know to cancel her afternoon appointments – she'd taken her morning ones since it wouldn't be fair to her patients to cancel on them at the last minute – she'd left for JFK around noon. Fortunately, none of her current pregnant patients were due to deliver any time soon, and none of them were what would be classified as a high-risk, so she didn't have any qualms about heading out to California to find Charles and Elizabeth.

Her flight had an almost two hour layover at O'Hare, and then she'd be on a flight to Sunnydale, arriving around eight-thirty in the evening, assuming that her flight didn't get delayed. She'd have time to find a hotel, and then tomorrow she could go looking for Charles. He would probably be staying in a hotel as well, so it shouldn't be too hard to find him.

Then…she didn't know what she would do. Part of her felt betrayed by what he had done – or rather, _not_ done. They had been such close friends…or so she'd always thought.

_Susan tapped on the ajar door to Charles' office and smiled at him when he looked up. "Hi."_

"_Hi, Susan. How are you today?" Charles pushed back his desk chair and rose to his feet, waving her into the room._

"_I'm good. Have you heard from Lizzie yet?" Her roommate and best friend was gone for the week, having received an opportunity to travel with one of her immediate supervisors to a pediatric medicine convention in Las Vegas for four days. She'd been gone since yesterday and as yet she hadn't called._

"_She called me about an hour ago," Charles told her. "She says the convention is really interesting. I wish I could have gone with her, but with my classes…"_

_Susan nodded in understanding. "Well, I thought that I would come by and see if you might be interested in going shopping with me this afternoon. Lizzie's birthday is next month and I don't have a present for her yet. My afternoon class was canceled, and today's my day off from the hospital."_

_Charles had a thoughtful look on his face. "My classes are over for today. I did have some labs that I need to grade before my advanced chemistry class tomorrow…" He considered for another few seconds. "Sure. I haven't seen you nearly enough, with you and Lizzie working in different areas of the hospital. When did you want to go?"_

_Susan glanced at her watch. "It's ten-thirty now…I have an eleven o'clock class that lets out at noon. We could get a quick lunch and then head out, if you want?"_

"_That sounds fine," Charles agreed. "I should be able to get at least a third of these labs graded by then. Should I meet you by your classroom, or do you want to come get me when you're ready?"_

"_I'll swing by. My professor has a tendency to hold us a few minutes longer than he's supposed to if he gets going on a topic right before noon." She waved. "I'll see you later, then, Charles."_

"_Bye Susan."_

And that was just one example of many that she could recall. There had been concerts, plays, movies, dinner parties. Late night study sessions that usually ended in laughter and warm feelings between the three of them. Birthday parties, Christmas parties, Lizzie and Charles' engagement party, the wedding… Could Charles have just been friendly for Lizzie's sake? She couldn't believe that – she would have sworn that he was her friend as well – but a friend wouldn't have done what Charles had done.

But mostly….mostly all she wanted was to see her goddaughter. And if possible, she would see to it that Elizabeth was brought home, where she belonged.

* * *

_Sunnydale High School…lunchtime…_

Buffy left her English classroom and decided to head outside. She was fairly certain that she'd managed to pass the test, despite all of the excitement from the weekend and having had a distinct lack of time to study. She probably wouldn't get the best grade, but she wouldn't flunk anyway. She was hoping for at least a C. But right now she didn't really feel like eating lunch. She needed to do some more thinking, and it was a nice day outside, so there was no reason why she couldn't sit in the quad and try to make some decisions.

She wandered outside, but quickly realized that the quad was way too crowded for serious thoughts. Frowning in thought for a moment, she turned back inside and wound her way through the hallways until she came to a side exit. She stepped outside and immediately spotted a nice quiet area under a tall tree. No one else was around, and everything was relatively peaceful. It would be a perfect spot to sit for a while.

She took a seat on the ground and leaned back against the tree. She could see one of the quiet residential streets that surrounded the school and – not for the first time – she thought about the difference in Sunnydale during the day, as opposed to the night. It never ceased to amaze her how, by day, Sunnydale looked completely normal. Parents went to work, kids went to school. Post officers delivered the mail, police officers made their patrols. Stores and banks were open for business, and everything was bright and sunny 99% of the time.

But by night…the vampires and demons came out to play. Anyone caught on the street alone after dark was simply asking to be eaten. People died every night, weirdness seemed to happen at the most unlikely times, and people just ignored it. They found "rational" ways to explain the weirdness, without realizing that the explanations weren't at all rational considering what was going on. For three years she'd patrolled the streets of Sunnydale, saving lives, yet no one ever seemed to notice or wonder why she was always wandering around Sunnydale in the middle of the night.

Assuming that Giles and Wesley could find some way to stop the Ascension, was she really going to spend the rest of her life wandering the streets of Sunnydale by night, saving lives, dusting vampires, and executing demons? After a while, she could imagine that it would all become hollow in a way – just an existence, but not a life. When she was younger, before she became the Slayer and realized what kind of a burden she would have to bear, she had dreamed about so many things – being a professional cheerleader, or a fashion designer, or even a mother. Did being the Slayer mean that she had to give up on those dreams?

Earlier this year, before she'd taken her SATs, she'd been convinced that Slaying was all that she could do with her life. Then she'd gotten her SAT scores back, and she'd started to wonder if she might possibly be able to have a life – especially after Northwestern had accepted her. She'd started to wonder if some of those childhood dreams might be able to become a reality. Surely, if she could keep the Big Bads down, she would be able to escape Sunnydale, have a real life, and then go back to vampire slaying over the summer and Christmas breaks?

She'd even wondered, if once the Mayor was gone, if things in Sunnydale might not improve a little bit. After all, without evil running the town in a political sense as well as a practical sense, maybe people would start to wake up and notice what was going on in front of their eyes. That had been part of her motivation in going after the Mayor and his Box – if she could stop the Ascension, wouldn't she have earned some freedom, a chance at another life?

"Deep thoughts?"

Buffy looked up to see Willow approaching. She sighed and offered her friend a smile. "Deep and meaningful."

"As in?"

"As in, I'm never getting out of here," Buffy said, slowly coming to the realization. "I know my dad really wants me to consider coming to New York with him after graduation – he's even going to try to pull some strings and get me accepted at New York University, not to mention Northwestern accepted me. I thought maybe if I stop the Mayor…but…who am I kidding, other than myself? There's always going to be something else. I'm a Sunnydale girl. No other choice."

Willow nodded solemnly. "It must be tough. I mean, cause here I am, I can do anything I want, and I can go to any college in the country. Even four or five in Europe if I want."

Buffy shot her friend a look. "Please tell me you're going somewhere with this." If Willow was just rubbing it in…but her friend wouldn't do something like that, would she?

"Nope." Willow reached into her back pocket and pulled out what looked to be a folded letter. "I'm not going anywhere."

Buffy took the letter and opened it, her eyes immediately going to the familiar crest on the top of the page. "U.C. Sunnydale?"

"I will be matriculating with the class of 2003."

Buffy stared at her friend. "Are you serious?"

Willow grinned. "Say, isn't that where you're going?"

Wild, incredible joy filled Buffy and she flung herself on Willow, her arms wrapping around the redhead as they tumbled to the ground together, laughing. "I don't believe it!"

After a second though, the realization struck her and Buffy sat up, a frown crossing her face. "What am I saying? You can't."

"What do you mean I can't?" Willow asked, sitting up and brushing grass off her shirt.

"I won't let you."

Willow didn't even blink. "Of the two of us here, which one is the boss of me?"

"But there are better schools…"

Willow hugged Buffy. "Sunnydale's not bad. And I can design my own curriculum."

"There're _safer_ schools. There're safer _prisons_! I can't let you stay here because of me."

Willow shook her head. "This isn't about you. Although I'm fond, don't get me wrong, of you. The other night, getting captured and all, facing off with Faith…things just got kind of clear. I mean, you've been fighting evil here for about three years, and I've been helping out some, and now we're supposed to be deciding what we wanna do with our lives and I realized that's what I want to do. Fight evil. Help people. I think it's worth doing, and I don't think you do it 'cause you have to. It's a good fight, Buffy, and I want in."

Buffy studied her friend closely. _She's serious about this_. Buffy couldn't believe it. She'd spent three years in Sunnydale, and she wanted nothing more than to get out, even though it was impossible. But Willow had lived her for her whole life, had the opportunity to leave and go to some of the best schools in the world, and she wanted to stay.

"I kind of love you."

"Besides, I've got a shot at becoming a bad-ass Wicca, and what better place to learn?" Willow stood up and then reached down to help Buffy up.

"I feel the need for more sugar than the human body can handle," Buffy declared.

"Mochas?" Willow asked, a small grin on her face.

"After school, definitely," Buffy agreed. "But Wills, promise me something." Willow looked at her curiously and Buffy continued. "Don't lock yourself in to UC Sunnydale until after graduation? If something goes majorly wrong with the Ascension, I want you to have a chance to get out."

"You mean if you…"

"The Mayor's going to be gunning for me. Faith too. There's a good chance that we – I – won't be able to stop them, and if I can't, you, Oz, Xander, Giles, even Cordy…you need to get out and live your lives."

"Buffy…"

"Promise me, Willow. If the Mayor wins, there won't even be a Sunnydale anyway, so keep your options open? Please?"

Willow bit her lip, but nodded.

Buffy sighed. "I kinda blew the mood there…but Willow, that means a lot to me, knowing that you're willing to stay here."

"You're my best friend, Buffy," Willow said simply.

* * *

_An unknown location…_

The room was dark and silent. The only light was coming from multiple computer screens, many o which were running detailed searches, protocols, or traces. The only sound was the clacking of fingers on a keyboard by the lone occupant, who sat at one of the computers. This was his domain. Here, he was the lord and master. In this room, he answered to no one.

"Huh." A muttered comment broke the silence. "Damn, Logan, you really know how to pick 'em. But what got you involved in the first place?"

The man leaned back in his chair, thoughtfully. For all that Logan hated to ask a favor, when he did, it was usually a doozy. Logan had good instincts about when something wasn't right. That was why he'd been such an asset to the Weapon X project, even though he didn't remember that. His healing ability had been a secondary project to exploit. It was his mind and his instincts the backers had craved.

He found it endlessly amusing that Charles Xavier believe that mutants were under wraps, when they had been exposed to some individuals for decades already. Oh, the general public might be unaware, at least for now, but it wasn't a complete secret. He also found it interesting that Xavier – who up until a few years ago had been a complete recluse – had somehow won the untamed, feral Logan to his side.

A beep from his computer signified that the download he'd started was complete. The new file had been compiled and was waiting to be sent out. He reached for the phone and dialed a number from memory.

"I've got the info. Making delivery…now." With a few keystrokes, he attached the file to an email and sent it, activating the routing program that would bounce the email through thousands of servers around the world simultaneously, making the letter virtually untraceable, even for Xavier's supercomputer.

"_Good. Keep me apprised of the situation."_

"Yes, sir." With that, he hung up and resumed his work. Inside this room he might be lord and master, but in the real world, even he had people that he answered to – but it was nice to have the illusion of not having to answer to anyone. If he could, he would much rather go freelance, but there were too many benefits to being involved. Besides, he received more amusement frustrating Logan and the others like him by giving them the runaround when they came begging than he would going completely freelance.

* * *

_Buffy's house…Monday evening…_

Charles was waiting for Elizabeth when she came home. She'd told him that morning before she left for school that she would be late due to a training session with Wesley. He had spent most of the day in his favorite pastime, reading, but he couldn't do that every day. He was supposed to fly back to Bayville in another week, and he still didn't know enough. He needed to be _doing_ something, and since he would be of little help in the Slaying until he understood more, the logical alternative was to figure out why his daughter had been taken from him.

He had managed to get back in touch with Michael Fitzgerald in New York, and had explained the situation to him. Michael had been one of his friends during the years he had taught at New York University, and he remembered the furor over Elizabeth's kidnapping. He had been shocked when Charles had told him the news, that he'd found his daughter and was looking to bring her home to New York. Michael had promised to see what he could do to get Elizabeth enrolled. He had agreed to speak to the admissions staff, find out if there would be any openings available for a non-boarding student, and if they would accept a late application, given the circumstances.

"_You know, Charles, even if they won't accept her for the fall, she could submit an application in August to start in the spring."_

"_I know, Michael. But her friends will be starting in the fall, and I don't think she would want to know that they're at school while she's forced to wait. I know she wants to come to New York, she just doesn't think that she can for some reason. Anything you can do, though, I would appreciate it."_

"_I'll see what I can do, Charles. The best I might be able to manage though would be to get them to look at her application – from there it would be up to her."_

_Charles sighed. "Yes, I know. Thank you, Michael. Call me when you know something?"_

"_Of course, Charles." There was a pause. "It was good to hear from you, old friend. I'm really very sorry about everything that has happened. I've been following your work in genetics – you've uncovered some fascinating things. I know most of the department, especially those who know you, agree."_

"_Thank you, Michael. That means a lot to me."_

"Hi," she greeted him as she came in, her backpack slung over her shoulder.

"Hello, Elizabeth. How was your day?" Mundane questions, but he knew that showing an interest in his daughter's life would help them build a real relationship with her. Thanks to the practice they had done yesterday with her telepathy, he was already more aware of her mental patterns. At intervals during the day, he'd found himself using his powers to check up on her. Her shields had remained strong, which told him that she hadn't been under any unusual stress, even though he hadn't picked up any direct thoughts from her.

"Same old. Classes, training, dealing with the Troll," she replied.

"The Troll?" Was that a reference to her Slaying? After all, if vampires, demons, witches, and werewolves were all real, couldn't trolls be too?

"Snyder. Our principal." At the blank look he gave her, she continued. "He's one of those guys who never got a date in high school, so he takes it out on the students now. He hates me, so I'm his favorite target. There's always a hoop of the week with him, and I try to avoid him as much as possible." She sighed. "Thankfully, after graduation, I'll never have to deal with him again."

"Why does he dislike you so much?" Charles wondered.

She hesitated, which made him wonder if there was some other secret that she was about to drop on him. He tried to mentally brace himself for whatever it was that he was about to hear, but he had a feeling that it wouldn't matter.

"He became the principal about half-way through my sophomore year when Principal Flutie was killed," she began slowly. "Because I'm the Slayer, I tend to end up where there is trouble a lot of the time, and Snyder pegged me right off the bat as a trouble maker. At the very end of last year, one of my friends, Kendra, was killed in the library, Xander's arm was broken, Willow was knocked unconscious, and Giles was kidnapped. I wasn't at the library; I had left to face down a vampire. But when I came back and I found Kendra dead, I froze. That's how Snyder found me, and he accused me of killing her. I ran, but I came back later because I needed a special weapon to stop the vampire. Snyder was still there and he expelled me."

"_You do know this is a crime scene, don't you? But then, you're a criminal, so that pretty much works out."_

_Buffy rolled her eyes at him. "You know I didn't do it. The police will figure it out."_

"_In case you haven't noticed, the police of Sunnydale are deeply stupid. It doesn't matter anyway. Whatever you find, you've become too much of a liability for this school." He paused for a moment and eyed her. "These are the moments you want to savor. You wish time would stop so you could relive them over and over again." He looked directly at her. "You're expelled."_

The memory of that night was still enough to make her ache. She'd been going through so much…dealing with Angelus, finding Kendra dead and her friends hurt, Giles missing… She hated to remember it, but whenever she did, it never failed to cause a pang. Was there something she could have done differently? If she hadn't left to confront Angelus after his immolation-o-gram, could she and Kendra together have taken Drusilla out?

Charles remembered the newspaper article that Kitty had found that had mentioned this incident. "He didn't have any evidence?" He frowned as he noticed that his daughter appeared to be lost in thought. "Elizabeth?"

"Hmm?"

"He didn't have any evidence, he just accused you?"

"Just my track record of getting into trouble and the fact that I was there when Kendra was found." Buffy sighed. "I was going through a lot of…" she was about to say 'emotional crap', but she paused for a moment and tried to modify it for his sake, "stuff, emotionally speaking, and I didn't know what else to do. That same night Mom found out about the Slaying, and we had a big fight. I ran. It was the only thing I could do. I stayed away for the whole summer, living in L.A."

Charles tensed unconsciously at the idea of his daughter running away from her home. Even though he had difficulty thinking of Sunnydale as her home when he knew that she belonged in New York, he could see how she would consider this house to be her home. But the idea of her living on her own – that simply frightened him, almost as much as when she'd told him how dangerous being the Slayer was. Anything could have happened to her – she could have died out there and he would never have had the opportunity to find her.

He tried to hide his reaction before she noticed, but he knew that he hadn't succeeded when she shook her head slightly. "Nothing happened. I got an apartment and a job working at a diner. I told them I was eighteen so they would hire me, even though I was only seventeen. I managed. But I finally came to realize that I was needed here, so I came back. All I wanted was to get my life back, including school, but Snyder wasn't willing to let me back in. We finally got the school board to overrule him. Willow and Xander had recovered and they testified that I wasn't in the library when they were attacked and Kendra was killed. The police had no choice but to drop the charges against me, and without being suspected for murder, Snyder had no grounds to keep me out. But he's hated me even more since then." She managed a small grin. "I think it really bugs him to know that despite everything he's done, I'm still going to graduate. My grades may not have been the best, but I'm going to make it."

"Why is he even a principal?" Charles asked, slightly appalled at what she was describing. How had the man even become an educator?

His daughter shrugged. "I have absolutely no idea, and I don't particularly care. All I care about is getting through the next two weeks."

Charles hesitated for a moment. There was something that he needed to tell her, and while he would have preferred to wait, to give her a few more days to get accustomed to the idea of his presence, he couldn't afford to. He would need her cooperation, and that of Joyce, if he was going to succeed, and he had a feeling that she could convince Joyce.

"Elizabeth, I've been thinking about some things," Charles began, noting the way she tensed. But this was something that needed to be said.

"You don't have to say anything more," she said quietly when he paused to consider his words. "I get it."

He frowned. "Get what?"

* * *

Buffy wanted to scream. _Not now…I can't take this right now. I knew I shouldn't have told him! _"My life – it's hard to accept. I get that you don't like what I am, that you wish I wasn't the Slayer, that you don't want to be a part of my life," she told him dully. Here, just when she'd been starting to hope…

Her father's face showed complete surprise. "What?" Even his tone was shocked. "Where did you get that idea?"

She licked her lips, nervously. "You said…you had been thinking, and you looked so serious…"

"Elizabeth…_nothing_, and I repeat, _nothing_, will ever make me abandon you." Now his tone was fierce. "I don't know where you got the idea that I couldn't cope with your life. I may not like it, I may not understand it, and I may not agree with it…but you are my _daughter._ I will tell you as many times as you need me to before you believe it. _I will not abandon you. I love you._"

The hope flared up again…but she was still cautious. She'd been burned too many times in the past to really believe – to take words over actions. "Then…what were you going to say?"

He reached over and gripped her hand. "I am going to have to return to Bayville in another week. I cannot abandon my students either, and when I took them in, I promised them I would be there for them. I trust Ororo and Logan, but I did make a promise. I had originally planned to try to convince you to come to New York with me, but I understand why you can't – at least, I think I do. You have an obligation here, and you feel like you need to stay. So I'll be splitting my time between Bayville and Sunnydale, at least until you feel like you can come to New York for good."

She let out a slow breath. That…wasn't as bad as she had thought it was going to be, and in a way, it made sense. She had responsibilities here in Sunnydale, no matter how much she hated it or wanted out, and he had responsibilities to his students in New York. They would both have to go and take care of those responsibilities. It was that simple, and she was relieved that he wasn't about to say good-bye, and become an absentee father like Hank had. "I get that too. I told you I understood your obligations."

"But, that doesn't mean that I don't want to be here for you, Elizabeth. And I will come back to visit you as often as I can. I would truly like for you to come with me to New York. I want to show you your home – where you belong. Even if it is just for a visit, I want you home with me; I want you to feel like you belong in Bayville, like you're welcome there."

"I…" For a moment she didn't know what to say to that. His tone was completely sincere, and his eyes were honest. For a long time, she'd judged people by their words, especially before she'd become the Slayer, back when she'd been flighty and shallow. After becoming the Slayer, and especially after learning how badly she could be hurt, she'd stopped judging people on their words, and had looked for other ways to tell if they were honest. She'd learned how to read people's eyes, their body language, and now, with this new telepathic gift, she had yet another tool, if her father was right and she gained enough control and confidence to use it in that fashion.

"I would really like that," she finally managed.

"But that wasn't what I was thinking about today," her father continued, a smile crossing his face at her quiet answer. "I still would like to find answers as to why you were taken from me. To do that, I'll need Joyce's help. Do you think you could help me persuade her to let me look at her memories again?"

Buffy bit her lip. "Mom still doesn't trust you completely. She thinks this is some kind of scam."

He sighed. "That's my fault. I was so eager to let you know the truth, I couldn't keep the news quiet until you had gotten to know me and I had gained some trust with you. But, Elizabeth, I have no intention of hurting you, or Joyce. Just because I _can_ alter memories doesn't mean that I _will_, without good cause, such as self-defense. It took me a long time to learn control, but once I realized just how powerful my gift was, I knew I had to figure out when it would be ethical to use it. I hold those ethics very important, and I try to teach all of my students the same ethics."

Buffy hesitated. "I'll talk to her, but she'll make up her own mind. That's all I can really do."

"Even that would help, Elizabeth," he said softly. "Do you have homework?"

She sighed. "Yeah. Physics and History. Willow helped me with the math during study hall."

"Physics? What are you studying?" His tone was interested.

"Um…something to do with light and electro – something?"

"Would you like some help?"

She looked at him, surprised. "Um…that…that would be great. My teacher's really dull – it's hard to pay attention sometimes."

* * *

"Science should be interesting, Elizabeth. It always fascinated me – that's one reason why I became a geneticist," Charles told her.

His daughter shrugged. "It just doesn't make sense to me. I have problems in school and I don't always get to do my homework because of the Slaying, so I feel like I'm really far behind on everything sometimes. If it wasn't for Giles and Willow, I doubt I would have made it this far – I certainly wouldn't be graduating in three weeks."

"Well, let me see if I can help you, Elizabeth. Sometimes, all it needs is a different explanation to help it make sense. I even tutored your mother in college."

"You did? I thought you said she was a doctor?"

"Everyone needs help sometimes, my dear. Your mother was a wonderful scientist, but she worked hard – it didn't come naturally to her either, and if she needed help, she asked for it. She was fortunate that I've never found science hard, and I loved spending time with her, helping her understand something that I have a great deal of passion for."

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded and put her backpack on the couch so she could riffle through it and find her textbook, notebook, calculator, and a pencil. Charles steered his chair over to the dining room table, angling in so that he could look at her book over her shoulder while she worked. She came over and took the seat beside him, opening up her book to the right page.

Charles studied what was on the page for a moment. "You're studying magnetic fields and electric fields and their relationship between each other. This is electromagnetism – light, X-rays, radio waves – all of those apply to the equations in this chapter. Once you understand the basic equations, it's just a matter of inserting the data from the problems and calculating it out."

"Really?" The look on her face was hopeful. "I could use something easy."

"Really." He pointed to the first section in the chapter. "This is Gauss' law as it relates to electric fields."

* * *

Wesley entered his hotel, juggling his briefcase as he searched for his room key. While the hotel was more expensive than a flat would be, he had wanted to wait and see what was available before he moved into a semi-permanent residence. Now, with Faith having gone rogue and Buffy showing little regard or respect for him, he was beginning to wonder if he should request a transfer back to London.

He'd been so proud when the Head of the Council had told him that he'd been chosen to become the Watcher assigned to the two active Slayers. It was finally a chance to impress his father! Roger Wyndam-Pryce had also been assigned to an active Slayer, about twenty years ago, after all, and naturally he had wanted Wesley to follow in his footsteps.

And now, he was assigned to not one, but _two_ Slayers! It had all seemed perfect when he'd received the assignment.

But then he had arrived and everything had started to go horribly wrong from the very beginning. The Slayers had both resented him, Mr. Giles refused to surrender his position and was constantly undermining him, one Slayer had gone rogue and the other was dating a vampire and telling all of her friends her secret…

He sighed to himself before he stopped at the elevator. He would have already requested the transfer, except that he knew that if he did, he would never get a chance at a decent position within the Council again, and he'd only disappoint his father yet again. That was the _last_ thing that he wanted. He pressed the button to call the elevator, and fortunately the door opened right away. He stepped inside and pressed the button for his floor, watching as the doors started to slide closed.

"Hold the elevator!"

Wesley quickly stuck his briefcase in the gap, holding the doors open as a tall, attractive woman rushed towards him. She had dark brown hair and eyes, was neatly and conservatively dressed, carrying a purse and pulling a wheeled suitcase behind her. She was a little older than he was – maybe her late forties or early fifties – but she was still a handsome woman.

"Third floor, please," she told him. "Thank you for waiting."

"You're quite welcome." Since he was heading for the third floor as well, he just allowed the doors to slide closed when she was on the elevator.

"You're British?" she asked.

"Yes." He offered her a hand. "Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. Why do you ask?"

"I seem to be meeting a lot of people from other countries this week. Just yesterday I was talking with a young man from Germany, and a woman whom I believe spent some time in Africa," she said as she shook his hand. "Oh! I'm sorry. I'm Doctor McGee."

"Pleasure," Wesley said properly before the elevator stopped and the door slid open. "It was nice to make your acquaintance." He stood back to let her exit first.

She sent him a genuine, but somewhat distracted smile. "Thank you." She turned to the right, heading down the hallway, and Wesley headed off to the left. He moved down to his door and unlocked it. Out of habit, given that this _was_ Sunnydale, he immediately closed and locked the door tightly.

He needed to call Travers. There was too much going on here – Mr. Giles, Buffy, Faith, and the Ascension. As much as he wanted to believe that he could handle it, he knew that he couldn't. He was capable of handling one Slayer, but with one gone rogue and the other one still loyal to her former Watcher, he couldn't get anything accomplished. A rogue Slayer was completely unpredictable, and had to be taken care of – and that was one thing he could not do.

He took a seat on his bed and reached for the phone and began dialing. As it rang, he hesitated, remembering what Giles had said about what would happen if the Council sent in a team to deal with the situation…but that was just more evidence that Mr. Giles was determined to interfere and undermine the situation.

"Yes, hello. I need Mr. Travers, please. Quentin Travers. This is Wesley Wyndam-Pryce calling."

* * *

Susan closed the door of her hotel room and absently dropped her suitcase on her bed. A casual inquiry at the desk while she was registering had revealed that Charles was not staying here. So, now she needed to look and see where the other hotels were – he had to be in one of them. It was just a matter of finding which one and arranging to talk to him.

Spotting a phone book, she picked it up and opened it, flipping through to the yellow pages, before she looked under "H" for hotel. There weren't many, which should make her search easier. She counted five other besides the one that she was staying in, so she quickly picked up a pad of paper from the table and started to write down addresses. She had seen a display of maps downstairs, so she would just grab one of those and then get in her rental and go searching for Charles. Her flight had arrived early, so she had a little time to start her search.

She had spent most of her flight here thinking about what she would say to him, but thus far she hadn't been able to come up with any satisfactory answers. She didn't even know how she would react when she saw him.

She grabbed the piece of paper that she had scribbled the addresses on, her room key, and the keys to her rental car and headed out. She grabbed the first elevator car and descended to the lobby, where she stopped long enough to grab a map of Sunnydale, before she headed out to her rental. She started the car before she spread the map out on the seat beside her and started plotting a route to the first hotel on her list.

It wasn't that far from here, just a mile or so. Nodding in satisfaction, she pulled out of the parking lot and made the turn that would take her in the right direction. There was a chance that Charles could be at any of the hotels on her list, so she would have to check each one.

* * *

_Buffy's house…_

Buffy hurried upstairs after she had finished helping her mom with the dishes. Dinner had been wonderful – pork chops, new potatoes, sliced tomatoes, and peas. She had been pleased to notice that her mom seemed to be a bit more accepting of her dad's presence at the house, although she still wasn't completely happy with the fact that he was there.

And she couldn't believe how much easier her physics homework had gone with her dad helping her. He had a gift for teaching, and for science, because he had easily explained the work to her, and even showed her a few tricks to help her remember the equations for when they were tested on the material at the end of the week. There was only one more chapter that they would be working on before the reviews for finals started, and Buffy felt that if she could go over the rest of the material with him before he left next week, she might have a chance of a decent grade on her physics exam.

She went into her bedroom long enough to grab Mr. Pointy, her silver dagger, and a couple of bottles of holy water. She slipped Mr. Pointy into her waistband at the small of her back, under her shirt. The dagger's sheath had a leather cord tied to it, and she tied that around her neck so that the dagger hung down her back, and the bottles she slipped into the pockets of her leather jacket. She pocketed her house keys and pulled her jacket on before she headed back downstairs.

Her father was sitting in the living room, speaking quietly with Joyce. He turned his head as she came downstairs. "Elizabeth, would you like some help on your history homework too?" he asked, before he took note of what she was wearing. He frowned slightly, and she saw a flash of worry in his eyes. "You're going out?"

"Meeting Angel for a patrol," she confirmed.

"Patr – you're going after vampires?" he asked.

"Have to. Sacred duty and all that," she replied. As his frown deepened she sighed. "Look, Dad, if I don't go out, people will die. I'll be back in about an hour or so, and then, yes, I would love some help on my history. If you're as good with history as you are with physics, I might actually be able to bring up my grades before graduation."

"Be careful, Buffy," Joyce said from her seat on the sofa.

"I'll be fine, Mom. Angel's meeting me." She looked back at her dad. "I promise Dad. I'll be all right. Angel will be with me the whole time."

Slowly, he nodded, although the worry didn't leave his eyes.

Buffy left the house and headed up the street towards Restful Peace Cemetery, which was where she and Angel had arranged to meet. She was alert for any vamps, but it was still just a little early. Going out on her early patrol like this though was a good time to catch the newly risen vamps fresh out of their graves. Besides, she couldn't wait to ask Angel about Prom. As she had walked home from school she'd checked out a few of the shops, mostly just window shopping to see if anything in particular caught her eye. She and Willow had already made plans to go dress shopping after school on Friday.

As she got closer to the cemetery she could see Angel waiting for her. His long black coat was wrapped around him, and he blended almost seamlessly into the shadows. The only reason she could see him was her enhanced night-time vision. He was a darker shape among the shadows.

"Hey Buffy," he greeted her softly as she came up alongside him. She stood on her tiptoes and he bent down to give her a long, deep kiss.

"Hey," she said as she broke the kiss. "Giles told me there was a fledge due to rise here tonight. I thought we could just sit and talk while we wait."

"Sounds good." He took her hand and they headed off into the cemetery. "So how's your dad doing? He wasn't hurt was he?"

"No, he's fine. We just spent a nice, quiet day yesterday. He worked a little more with me on controlling my telepathy, and we talked. He told me that he used to play football and run track when he was in school. Oh, and he told me he used to tutor my mom – my birth mom, that is - in science!"

Angel smiled. "I'm glad you're getting to know him, Buffy. Does he seem like he wants to be part of your life, now that he knows about the Slaying?"

Buffy considered it. "I think so. He's still trying to figure everything out, and I'm still waiting for a major meltdown like Mom had when she found out. But he seems to be accepting it, at least for the moment."

"That's good." They walked in silence for a few more minutes. "Giles called me this afternoon. He told me they found out what the Ascension is."

Buffy nodded. "Yes. Although it doesn't really help us, because there's too many species of demons to narrow the list down much. Even if we take out the ones that are known to be mostly harmless, it's still a really long list."

"But at least you know a little more about what to expect," Angel offered.

"True." They walked a little further before Buffy stopped in front of a headstone. "Here, this one. His obit was in the paper this morning, Giles said."

"Do you want to sit?" Angel asked, gesturing at a large headstone a few feet away, facing the grave they were watching.

Buffy nodded and they headed over. Angel sat down and braced his back against the headstone, and Buffy snuggled into his arms. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Angel holding her closely. She sighed contentedly. This was almost perfect. If it wasn't for the fact that they were sitting in the middle of a cemetery, she could almost bring herself to believe that she was just a regular girl sitting with her boyfriend under the stars.

"Angel, the Prom is in two weeks. I was hoping you would go with me."

"The Prom? That's that big, end-of-the-year dance, right?" Angel asked.

"Uh huh. Willow and I are going shopping for dresses, and you'll need to get a tux – that is, if you want to go with me. Willow and Oz are going together, and I know Xander's got a couple of girls he was going to ask."

Angel was quiet for a few minutes. "Sure, I'll go with you, Buffy."

She tipped her head back and kissed him. "Thanks, Angel. It's going to be such a great night." She paused for a second. "I don't know what that stupid Mayor was talking about the other night. I mean, he was going on and on about our relationship like he understood us."

"Well, he's evil," Angel pointed out.

"Big time. Bet he doesn't even know what a lasting relationship is."

Angel kissed her hair. "No."

"Probably the only lasting relationship he's ever had is with…well, Evil."

"Yeah."

"He sure doesn't know you…stupid, evil guy. We'll show him."

"We will," Angel agreed. "Have you thought about what you're going to do about college yet?"

Buffy sighed. "I've pretty much resigned myself to UC Sunnydale. Northwestern would be amazing, but as long as the Hellmouth is here, I'm stuck. Even if we beat the Mayor, there'll always be something worse. I feel bad though. Willow's already decided she wants to go to UC Sunnydale too – she could be going to Oxnard or Yale, or something…"

"Oxford."

"Hmm?"

"Oxford University – it's in England. Why does Willow want to stay?"

Buffy sighed again. "She said that she's decided that she wants to protect people, help save the world, and become a bad-ass Wicca, which are all things that she can do here. She doesn't see the need to go away for that. But I feel bad anyway – it's like she's staying because I'm stuck here. If I had a chance, I'd be out of here so fast…my dad really wants me to come to New York, but…"

Dirt shifting caught their attention and they both jumped to their feet as a hand poked its way through the dirt of the fresh grave. Both of them rose to their feet and moved to either side of the grave, flanking the fledge as it crawled out of its grave. The new vamp was a man in his early thirties, dressed like a businessman. Buffy shook her head. "Talk about your fledges. This guy wouldn't have any survival skills even if we hadn't been waiting for him."

Before the new vamp had a chance to even get to his feet, she had pulled out Mr. Pointy and driven it deep into the fledge's back, right into the heart. There was a heartbeat's pause, before the vampire burst into a dust cloud.

"Scratch one more vamp," Buffy said, tucking the stake away. "Want to take a walk downtown? I thought I might pay Willy the Snitch a visit, see if he knows anything more about the Ascension."

"Sure, we can," Angel agreed.

They headed in the opposite direction from where they'd come and soon emerged out on one of the side streets that eventually would make its way over to Main Street. Angel wrapped his arm around her shoulders as they walked together, and Buffy leaned her head against him.

"Willow and I are thinking about going to visit the UC Sunnydale campus on Saturday. I'm hoping that Mom will let me live on campus. It's too far to come home every night, plus, there's the whole 'lack of cool' factor. But I'll be closer to your place too, so I can see you more often. Willow's getting really psyched about college."

"What about your dad? You said he wanted you to come to New York. Are you going to go out with him, at least for a visit?"

Buffy shrugged. "I don't know. I suppose it depends on what happens between now and graduation. I'd like to, and it seems like it's usually quiet around here during the summers, so if I was going to go, that would be the ideal time."

They crossed Main Street and continued down the sidewalk. There was another cemetery out this way, as well as two of the hotels. Buffy usually tried to come through this way at least once a week, but she always picked a different day, since it was also fairly close to Town Hall and she didn't feel like bumping into Faith, or letting Faith know her patrol route.

A scuffling sound caught her attention, followed by a short scream. Buffy and Angel both looked around alertly for the sound and pinpointed it coming from an alley just ahead. Buffy broke away from Angel and sprinted forward, readying Mr. Pointy. She turned into the alley, Angel on her heels, and discovered a vampire struggling with a dark haired woman. The vamp had its arm around her throat, but she wasn't giving up. Her nails were digging into its arm, and she was kicking like crazy. As Buffy watched, the woman stomped down on the vamp's instep in a desperate attempt to break its grip.

"Hey, fang-face!" Buffy yelled. "Let her go!"

The vamp looked up and snarled, but released the woman, tossing her aside to land in a pile of trash. It started towards Buffy, who moved towards it willingly, ready for a good fight. By the feeling of this vamp, she guessed that it was a decade old or so. Enough to give her a bit of a fight at least. "Angel, check the lady," Buffy ordered. "I've got this."

Angel nodded and circled off to the side, but the other vampire ignored him, all its focus on Buffy.

Buffy rocked forward onto the balls of her feet, dropping into a relaxed, easy stance that would allow for a quick attack. As soon as the vamp was in striking range, she lashed out with a roundhouse, catching the vamp across the face. She barely settled back into her stance before she lunged forward again and landed two quick punches to the sternum. The vamp recovered quickly enough to kick at her knee, but she jumped up and flipped over his head, landing and pulling her leg back to deliver a powerful sidekick to its back before it could recover.

Angel, meanwhile, had approached the woman who was trying to extract herself from the pile of garbage. "Are you all right?"

"I…I think so, yes," the woman replied, blinking a bit and shaking her head. She looked up at Angel who was offering her a hand up, and cautiously she took it and allowed him to pull her to her feet. As soon as she was on her feet she leaned forward, bracing herself on his arm as if she was dizzy.

"You're not all right," Angel said, concerned.

"I'll…I'll be fine. I haven't eaten today, I'm just a little light-headed," the woman said.

Angel glanced over at Buffy, who had dropped down and swept the vamp's feet out from underneath it. Knowing she was about to stake the vamp, he gently turned the woman so that she had her back to the fight before Buffy sprang back to her feet and drove the tip of Mr. Pointy into the vampire's heart. The vampire burst into ashes before Buffy straightened and came over to where Angel and the woman were standing.

"Angel, is she okay?" Buffy asked.

"She's a little light-headed, she says, but I don't think the mugger hurt her," Angel replied.

The woman looked up at the sound of Buffy's voice and focused on her face. After a moment, her brown eyes widened in complete shock and she swayed in Angel's arms. "It…it can't be." She reached out as if to touch Buffy's face. "L-lizzie?"

Before Buffy or Angel could react, the woman swayed again, and then passed out, collapsing limply into Angel's arms.

**German translations:**

_ja_: yes  
_dank_: thanks  
_Abschied_: farewell

**_Don't forget to leave me a review! Looking to break 1000 reviews between the two sites soon! I don't think I'll pull 60 reviews on this chapter, but every one helps!_**


	46. Chapter 45: Stinging Words

_Author's Note: *slinks out of hiding, ready to run* Hi everyone. I am so sorry for the incredible lateness on this chapter. I really don't have any good excuse. I've been trying to finish my Narnia story Between Families so that I could devote myself to this full time, but that didn't work out, and I realized that you have all been so incredibly patient with me – I just had to sit down and get this chapter written. This has probably been one of the most difficult chapters to write to date, so I hope that you enjoy it._

_Thanks to __**richierich**__ for being the 385__th__ reviewer on this site , and to __**Arkaedia**__ for being the 585__th__ reviewer at Twisting the Hellmouth. Also, welcome to my new reviewers: __**DementedLeaf, Jason123456, jon58840, oceanluvr, MirandaAnnMcGonagall, **__and anyone else I may have missed. It's great to see that you're enjoying this story, and I hope to see you on the review boards again! Thanks for giving my story a chance!_

* * *

_**Chapter Forty-Five: Stinging Words**_

"_Words can sting like anything, but silence breaks the heart."_

_- Phyllis McGinley_

_Buffy's house…_

Charles watched his daughter leave for her patrol and couldn't stifle a surge of worry as the door closed behind her. No matter what Mr. Giles said about her Slayer powers, what she was doing seemed like nothing more than his daughter going out and looking for trouble. She might have the best motives – saving lives – but she was going out and essentially looking for a fight. It wasn't safe – it wasn't healthy! – and he couldn't help but worry about her. When he sent Logan and Storm out, he did so with good information, as well as good motives – and he never deliberately sent the children into danger. With Storm and Logan, he tried above all not to send them into a dangerous situation unless there was absolutely no choice, and he always gave them the option to decline. His daughter had not had the opportunity to decline the choice to become the Slayer.

"Buffy will be fine," Joyce said calmly. "She does this every night – usually twice a night, actually. She may come home with bruises, but she'll be fine."

"How are you so blasé about this?" Charles asked. "Elizabeth is hunting vampires," he shook his head, "and I can't believe I'm actually saying that. She could die anytime she goes out on one of these patrols, and –"

"I have faith in Buffy," Joyce interrupted him, her voice tight. "I worry about her every time she goes out but she is good at what she does. I also trust Angel. He won't let anything happen to her. He would die before he let Buffy get hurt." She fixed him with a serious look. "Nothing is going to stop Buffy from doing her duty, and if you really do care about her and want to be part of her life, you have to accept that this is who she is. God knows it was easier before I learned about all of this, but I don't have a choice. This is Buffy's fate."

"I've never believed in fate," Charles said softly. He still wasn't sure if he could believe what 'Lizzie' had said in his dream. The idea that the fate of the world was on his daughter's shoulders was difficult to believe. How could one person impact the lives of six billion people? But at the same time, if his conversation with Lizzie had been just a dream, why would he dream something so outrageous?

"You'll need to start believing," Joyce replied. "Even after I found out about the Slaying, I was convinced that it would just stop if Buffy got away from Sunnydale. But Mr. Giles explained to me that vampires are everywhere, and that she would never stop being the Slayer."

He needed to start believing – those had been Lizzie's words as well. The idea of fate, though…it was so ephemeral, so subjective. How could someone as scientific as he was come to believe in something so illogical? Of course, Lizzie had liked to argue that it was fate that they had met and fallen in love – that they had been destined for each other. While that was a romantic notion, and one he'd occasionally enjoyed teasing her about, he wasn't convinced.

Perhaps it was time to change the subject. "Joyce, I understand that you don't trust me, or my motivations. What can I do to convince you that I am sincere, and that this isn't a trick?" A weighty subject, perhaps, but he needed to start looking for answers.

She sighed softly. "I don't know. For eighteen years, Buffy has been _my_ daughter. Then I found out that she's the Slayer, then you show up claiming that she's _your _daughter, _and_ she's telepathic. I don't know what to think or feel anymore."

Charles didn't know what he could say to that. Most of the time, his students seemed to believe that he had all the answers. But he'd made his own share of mistakes – allowing his relationships with Susan, Moira, and Lizzie's parents to suffer not the least of them. It was true, to an extent, that his telepathy gave him a greater insight into what people were thinking, but telepathy didn't automatically confer wisdom. He'd studied people a great deal once he'd realized that he was telepathic, trying to understand and control his powers. The accident that had crippled him, followed by the long months of recovery and physical therapy had refined his patience and his emotional control even further. But he didn't have all the answers to life's questions.

Maybe he simply needed to face her doubts head on, in a way that would allow her to draw her own conclusions about who he was – not just a faceless man who was trying to steal her child, but to understand who Charles Xavier was, and what kind of a person he was.

The most obvious place to start, of course, was with her suspicions about his telepathic abilities. "Joyce, I know you are suspicious of me because I have the ability to manipulate memories – but I don't use that power unless I have no other choice."

"You could have tricked Buffy into believing that she was your daughter," Joyce said. "You could have done something to make the test show what you wanted it to."

"I could have, you're right," he agreed. "It wouldn't even have been difficult. But I wouldn't. Joyce, I have a great deal of power – not just the strength of my telepathy, but social and political power as well. My family goes back a very long time, and I have a great deal of wealth. I am very much respected in Bayville, and even without my telepathy, I could probably win an election for any office I wanted to run for. But I made a decision not to use that power. It is a slippery slope once you first use that kind of power for personal gain. What I want is peace between people – but that kind of peace isn't worth anything unless it is _earned_. I _could_ force my will on others, but what would that prove?"

Joyce looked thoughtful as she considered his question. "That people can be manipulated, or that we can only act like sheep being herded to someone else's will, I suppose."

"And if someone had an ability to block my powers, or something happened to me and people realized what I had done, it would only make things worse," Charles added. "Losing my daughter was one of the worst experiences of my life, especially since it came so soon after the death of my wife. If Elizabeth – Buffy - wasn't my daughter, why would I risk trying to manipulate her falsely? Her telepathy gives her a natural defense against any sort of meddling of that nature, even untrained. If I had manipulated her like that and she found out, what would it gain me? For that matter, how could claiming her as mine if she wasn't help me? It wouldn't bring _my_ daughter back."

Joyce fell silent, obviously considering his words. Charles took the opportunity to press his advantage. "Joyce, I may have omitted the real reason for my original visit, but I have _never_ lied to you, or to Elizabeth, and I never will. All I want is to know my child, and to know _why_ she was taken away from me."

* * *

_Downtown Sunnydale…_

Buffy looked up at Angel, surprised. Reflexively, he had scooped the woman up when she collapsed and now held her cradled in his strong arms. "Who is she?" Buffy wondered.

Angel shook his head. "I don't know. What do you want to do, Buffy? She seemed to recognize you."

"She called me Lizzie. That was my mom's name, at least according to my dad." Buffy took another step closer and studied the woman they'd rescued.

"Do you think your father will know her?" Angel asked.

"Maybe. Let's go back to my house. Even if my dad doesn't know her, we can't leave her out here to become demon chow," Buffy said. But to herself, she was wondering who the woman was. Could she have known her birth mother? Did she know her father? Why else would she have called her Lizzie? Her father had said that she resembled her mother, but could they be similar enough to be that easily mistaken?

Together, with Angel carrying the woman, they headed back down the street, crossing back through Restful Peace for the fastest route back to Buffy's house. The police in Sunnydale might be corrupt, ignorant, or just plain stupid, but even they would be obligated to do something if they saw Angel carrying an unconscious woman down the street, in the opposite direction from the hospital.

It only took a few minutes for them to reach the cemetery, and with Buffy taking the lead, they hurried among the graves and mausoleums until they reached the gate closest to Revello Drive. Fortunately, because it was still early, there didn't seem to be any vamps out. But Buffy knew that could also have something to do with the Ascension. Overconfident the Mayor might be, but she also knew that he wasn't stupid. He would want to have the Sunnydale vampires working for him, so he would find ways to feed them without them going on a killing spree. That was what the Master had done leading up to the incident with the Anointed One, after all.

From the gate, it only took another three minutes at their fast walk to reach Buffy's house. Buffy quickly unlocked the front door and held it open so that Angel could enter with his burden. The woman hadn't shown any sign of stirring during the walk, so Buffy gestured Angel towards the living room, which she noticed was empty. "Put her on the couch, Angel," Buffy directed. "Mom? Dad?"

"Buffy? What's going on?" Joyce emerged from the kitchen, followed closely by Charles, both of them holding steaming cups of tea.

Buffy shrugged. "I'm not sure. Angel and I rescued this lady from a vamp, but then she fainted when we were checking on her. We couldn't leave her in the street. The odd thing is, before she passed out, she called me Lizzie."

"Lizzie? Why would she – Susan?" Her father had moved past them as Buffy was speaking, only to stop dead in the doorway as he got his first look at the woman Angel had placed on the sofa.

Buffy moved to stand next to her father. "You know her?"

"Is she all right?" Her father moved closer to the sofa without answering her question and gently touched the woman's cheek before he looked up at Angel.

"She wasn't bitten," Angel assured him. "Other than that, I'm not sure. She said something about being light-headed, right before she passed out."

"How do you know her?" Buffy asked.

"I met her the same time I met your mother, Elizabeth. She was your mother's best friend and partner. They were almost like sisters, they were so close. Her name is Doctor Susan McGee." He shook his head. "I don't know what she could possibly be doing in Sunnydale, though. She's supposed to be in Bayville. She has a clinic there, the one she and Lizzie opened together after they finished medical school."

He hesitated for a moment. "She's also your godmother."

All three of them stared at him.

"My – godmother?" It was Buffy who found her voice first. She tore her gaze away from her father and studied the woman more closely.

"Why would she have called Buffy Lizzie?" Joyce asked.

"Eliz –" Charles paused for a moment. "Buffy looks almost exactly like her mother – my wife, that is. My reaction the first time I saw a picture of her was much the same. Susan hasn't seen Buffy since she was five months old – the shock must have been incredible." He maneuvered his wheelchair around the coffee table to the end of the couch where Susan's head was resting on a throw pillow and gently placed his palm on her forehead, closing his eyes for a moment.

Angel, Joyce, and Buffy watched as a frown crossed his face before he opened his eyes. "She's fine, as far as I can tell."

"What did you just do?" Joyce asked uncertainly.

"A mental probe. I touched her mind with my telepathy, trying to get some sense of what was wrong."

"How?" Buffy asked.

Charles sat back slightly in his chair, pulling his hand away from Susan's forehead and resting it on the arm of the chair. "A telepath can sense mental patterns – it's an unconscious ability that allows us to focus on one particular mind," he explained. "Different mental states _feel_ differently to a telepath. With practice, a telepath can distinguish between those who are mentally ill, under the control of someone else, drugged, or unconscious." He looked down at Susan. "She is unconscious, but her subconscious mind is active enough. She should wake up in a few minutes. What I don't understand is what she's doing here."

"Couldn't you find out, or talk to her with your powers?" Angel queried.

"I could," Charles agreed. "But Susan doesn't know about mutants, or that I'm telepathic, and I don't intend to tell her. The fewer people who know of our existence for the moment, the better. Eventually, people will find out of course, but it's my hope that mutants will be able to introduce ourselves as friends, in complete control of our powers. Your mother knew, Elizabeth, and Moira knows because she assists me in my research sometimes, but Susan never knew."

"Personal experience? Keeping secrets from family doesn't really work," Buffy pointed out.

"Yet, you were going to keep a secret from me," Charles reminded her.

"Not forever. Just until I was sure I could trust you."

"Perhaps, but –" Charles paused as Susan moaned softly. "She's coming to." He leaned over her a bit so that she could see his face. "Susan? Are you all right?"

"Hmm?" Susan murmured. Her hand drifted up slightly before it settled back at her side as her eyes opened a fraction only to blink closed at the light. "W-what happened?"

"You're all right, Susan. You just fainted," Charles soothed her, keeping his voice pitched low and soft. "Elizabeth, could we turn off some of the lights?"

"Sure." Buffy moved around the room and extinguished most of the lights, leaving one across the room on her mom's desk turned on, and one out in the foyer on. She returned to stand in the doorway, slightly behind Angel and her mom, watching as her father turned his attention back to Susan.

"It's all right, Susan. You can open your eyes now."

Slowly, her brown eyes opened, blinked, then stayed open and focused on what was around her. They settled on Charles, who was still leaning over her slightly, and then narrowed with anger.

"You bastard," she hissed softly.

Buffy bristled at the insult to her father, but he seemed to sense it, because before she could retort, she heard his "voice" in her mind. _**It's all right, Elizabeth. Susan has a right to be angry with me. I hurt her very badly a long time ago, and this conversation is long past due. Would you, Angel, and Joyce mind waiting in another room for a few minutes so we can talk?**_

_**Are you sure?**_ she replied the same way, via the link that he had set up and that she had accepted automatically, without even thinking about it. If she hadn't been so interested in what was going on with this woman, she would have been more surprised at how easily this telepathic communication with her father was becoming.

_**I'm sure, Elizabeth. Trust me. Susan might be angry, but she won't hurt me.**_

She hesitated for another second before she nodded. She tapped Angel and her mom on the shoulder and indicated that they should follow her to the kitchen when they turned to look at her. Just as they left the room, she could hear her father speaking to Susan.

"I'm sorry, Susan."

"Sorry? Sorry doesn't even begin to cover it, you selfish, egomaniacal bastard. After everything I've done for you, everything we suffered _together_, you have only proven, time and again, how little you care about anyone except yourself."

* * *

Susan didn't know where these words were coming from, because it certainly wasn't what she had _intended_ to say to Charles when she saw him. But she had to admit to herself that in a way, it felt good to rail at him for the sixteen years of emotional hell he'd put her through. This wasn't even just about Elizabeth anymore – it was about everything that she'd gone through after he pushed her away.

She saw his bright blue eyes darken with pain, but she didn't let up. She needed to get this out before he started trying to make excuses. "I thought we were friends, Charles, but you obviously have changed from the man I once knew. I don't know what _your_ feelings might have been, but _I_ considered you to be _my_ friend. I was Lizzie's best friend. The night she died, when we realized that we couldn't save her, even though she was unconscious, I swore to her that I would look out for you and your daughter. I _swore_ it, Charles. For sixteen years I've had to hear about you from Moira. You have _no idea_ what kind of hell you put me through, knowing that I couldn't keep my promise! I lost my best friend when Lizzie died, but I also lost you. You shut me out, and you didn't say anything for _sixteen damn_ years. You were as good as dead to me! Then I had to find out from Moira that you had found Elizabeth! I'm her godmother – did that even cross your mind?"

She had to stop for breath. She was so angry that she was shaking, but more than that she was disappointed. Charles took advantage of her pause for breath to speak.

"Susan, no matter what you think, I _do_ understand. I was feeling the same things as you." He paused for a moment, before he continued. "Lizzie was everything to me. Losing her hurt – you know that, because you saw me at her funeral." When she started to retort, he held up his hand. "I knew what you had promised Lizzie – I could tell by the way you were always there, looking out for us."

He paused for a moment and his eyes, already filled with pain from her attack, became even more so. "When the police gave up on Elizabeth…I shut _everyone_ out, including Moira. Losing Lizzie almost destroyed me; losing Elizabeth shattered my heart and mind. The only way I could cope was by isolating myself. I buried myself in my work, because my only goal was to figure out a way to find my daughter again." He met her angry gaze squarely. "I always intended to tell you that I had found her, Susan. I wasn't keeping it a secret to keep her away from you. You're one of the few connections she has left to her mother, and I would never have dreamed of keeping the two of you apart."

"Then why did I have to learn about it from Moira?" Susan asked her tone hurt and bitter.

"If I'd had a choice, I wouldn't have told Moira either," Charles admitted. "I wanted to tell both of you in person. I didn't think it was something that should be done over the phone, but…telling Moira the way I did was necessary, because I had to explain to her what I was doing out here. If I had even thought for one moment that she would call you and break the news, I would have called you immediately. When I called you a few days ago, I wanted to meet you for coffee so that I _could_ tell you in person."

Susan started to speak, but then closed her mouth as she thought about what he was saying.

"Susan, I reached out to Moira mostly because she refused to be shut out of my life. I know you were only respecting my grief and my privacy, but you know Moira and her Scottish stubbornness. And…you were Lizzie's friend. Every time I looked at you, it made me think of the way the two of you were inseparable. Seeing you alone, without Lizzie…it broke my heart every single time all over again. Then…well, I reached out to her because I needed her help on my research. I've told her very little about what I've been going through, emotionally. It's been almost all business between us for the last sixteen years." He leveled a sincere look at her, his gaze piercing her like a lance. "I know I hurt you, Susan. I know I made mistakes when I pushed you, James, and Rachel out of my life. I've never been good at sharing my feelings with anyone except Lizzie. All I can do is beg your forgiveness and promise to try to do better in the future."

* * *

"Buffy, are you all right?" Joyce asked as they stepped into the kitchen and Buffy sank down onto one of the stools at the island.

Buffy didn't answer at first, only dropped her head to rest on the countertop, her eyes closed.

"Buffy?" Angel asked, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

Buffy sighed. "I really, really hate the PTB's," she muttered. "Why the hell can't they ease up on the curveballs and find some other game to play besides "Let's screw with Buffy's head"?

Angel rubbed her back. "I don't know, Buffy. I would have thought that you would like the idea of having more family."

Buffy raised her head and looked at Angel imploringly. "Normally I would, but why can't they let me get through the Mayor's damned Ascension first?" She looked between the vampire and her mother with pleading eyes. "I'm only eighteen. Just because I'm the Slayer doesn't mean that I know how to handle _everything_."

The tone in her voice got through to her as Angel continued to rub her back. "Damn. I sound like a brat now, don't I?"

Angel wrapped his arms around her from behind and pulled her upright to lean backward against his chest. "I know it's hard, Buffy. You've been bearing up under everything incredibly well, given the circumstances. I don't think there are many others who could handle things with the courage and will that you've shown."

"Thanks, Angel," she whispered. She looked over at Joyce, who – almost by habit, was putting together a tray of tea and coffee. "Mom, are you okay with…everything?"

"It _is_ a lot to take in, dear," Joyce said, pausing in her task. "I'm still trying to get used to the idea that you are telepathic, let alone that Professor Xavier is your father and something tampered with my memories. Now you have a godmother?"

_**Elizabeth?**_ Her father's voice was in her head before she could reply.

_**Yeah, Dad?**_ she replied.

_**Susan would like to meet you, when you're ready to come out here. I've explained things to her and she's not angry and more reasonable than she was a few minutes ago.**_

Buffy bit her lip in sudden fear, wondering if her father had told her about the Slaying. True, he hadn't confided in his students or Doctor McTaggert, but to make up for whatever he had done that had made her godmother so angry? _**Dad…you didn't…? I mean, you didn't say anything to her about my being the Slayer?**_

_**Of course not, Elizabeth. I haven't told Susan anything about my being telepathic, or about my students and their gifts. Why would I tell her about your special powers?**_ Her father's voice was reassuring. _**Please, come out and meet her. She cares about you a great deal.**_

Buffy bit her lip. _**All right. We'll be out in a minute.**_ She broke the communication link with her father and sighed. Then she gently extracted herself from Angel's embrace.

"Buffy?" Angel asked, releasing her so she could get back to her feet. "What's going on?"

"My dad's calling," she replied. Slipping past Angel, she headed for the door, sensing Angel fall into step behind her. The vampire had always been protective of her – it was one of the things she loved most about him, because he made her feel safe when normally she was one who had to save others.

"I must say, that is one thing about telepathy that I would like," Joyce said, a teasing tone entering her voice. "At least you can't ever claim that you don't hear him calling you."

"Mom!" Buffy moaned, good-naturedly, before she was forced to laugh, Angel and Joyce joining in. As the laughter faded, Buffy straightened and took a deep breath. "Well, here goes nothing."

She left the kitchen and headed into the living room. Her godmother was sitting upright on the sofa now, her father in his wheelchair near her, but there was still an uncomfortable distance and silence between them. Obviously, things still were not all right, although neither of them appeared to be _physically _harmed.

Susan looked up at her entrance and slowly, as if in a dream, rose to her feet. Her dark brown eyes were wide and intense as she studied Buffy's face.

For her part, Buffy studied her godmother in return. She was attractive, with thick wavy brown hair that fell to her shoulders, and her eyes were flecked with green, although it was hard to tell that, given the way they were beginning to tear up. She was tall – almost 5'10", Buffy guessed, and it made her feel even more petite than she already was at 5'2".

"Elizabeth?"

"My name is Buffy," she corrected. She didn't mind her father calling her Elizabeth, but she didn't want _everyone_ to start calling her that, particularly her friends or complete strangers. She had been "Buffy" for so long, Elizabeth didn't sound or feel natural to her yet, despite the fact that it was her full name.

Susan frowned at that, but didn't comment on it. Instead, she changed the topic. "You look so much like your mother."

"So I've heard," Buffy said neutrally. This was incredibly awkward. What was she supposed to say to this woman? _Hi, it's nice to meet you? Glad I was able to save you from being vampire chow?_ Speaking of which, what was her godmother doing wandering Sunnydale's streets at night?

Susan reached out, as if to touch Buffy's face, but Buffy flinched away. She was not comfortable enough with the situation to welcome the touch. She was still trying to find a degree of comfort with her father, their spontaneous hugs notwithstanding. Accepting a touch from a woman who was a complete stranger?

_Not gonna happen._

Susan looked hurt as her touch was rejected. Buffy only hoped that her godmother wouldn't make the mistake of thinking that they could instantly become friends or family, just because she looked like Lizzie Xavier. "Forgive me for asking, but…why are you here?"

* * *

"I –" Susan hesitated. What could she say? _I came out here to tell off your father for leaving me in the dark_? She had a feeling that wouldn't go over well with Elizabeth.

Her goddaughter raised an eyebrow, just as a tall, blonde woman came in carrying a tray of tea and coffee. "Is everything all right?" the woman asked.

"Yeah, Mom. Everything's fine." Elizabeth replied. "Do you need any help?"

"I'm fine, thank you, Buffy." The woman placed her tray on the coffee table. Susan couldn't help the anger that welled up inside her as she heard her goddaughter refer to this woman as "Mom". _Lizzie is her mother!_

Eighteen years ago, Susan had sworn to make sure that her best friends' – and she included Lizzie _and_ Charles in that description - daughter would grow up knowing how special and amazing her mother was. Of course, no one could have foreseen that Elizabeth would be abducted, but her loss had left Susan feeling hollow inside, as if she had failed her best friend in some way.

The tall woman turned to face her. "I'm Joyce Summers, Buffy's mother. It's nice to meet you."

Susan forced down her anger at the woman's introduction with difficulty. "I'm Doctor Susan McGee."

An awkward silence fell over the room, and no one seemed willing or able to break it. Susan had wanted to confront Charles, but she hadn't planned on confronting her goddaughter at the same time. She also couldn't help but be struck by how similar in appearance Elizabeth was to her best friend – the resemblance was uncanny.

"You still haven't answered my question," Buffy said quietly, but with a note of steel in her tone.

"I – I heard from Moira that you had been found, and I just – I needed to come. I needed to see that it was true," Susan finally managed. She didn't know what else she could say, and the look in her goddaughter's eyes and the tone in her voice was making her even more uncomfortable. There was something very…dangerous about the young woman who stood before her. This was not the tiny infant that she had loved so much, nor was it her best friend. This was a complete stranger, and one who was not happy.

Elizabeth only nodded in response to her answer, but her tone was firm when she finally spoke again. "Now that you have, you need to leave."

"Buffy!" Joyce snapped. "Don't be rude!"

"I'm not being rude. She doesn't need to be here right now, and I have enough to deal with. If and when I come to New York with Dad, I'll be happy to visit with her and try to get to know her better, but this is not the time or the place for a meeting like this."

Susan couldn't believe what she was hearing – or the deep stab of pain that went through her heart at her goddaughter's words. It was true that she had come out here uninvited – but some part of her had hoped for something more. She had never expected…_this_.

* * *

Charles frowned at the deep look of hurt on Susan's face. He reached out to his daughter with his mind. _**Elizabeth, what is the matter with you? You've hurt your godmother deeply. Susan was your mother's best friend.**_

_**I'm not sorry, Dad. She doesn't need to be here, and I refuse to tell her about being the Slayer. You, at least, are somewhat used to odd things because of your students and their abilities. But I have the Ascension to deal with, on top of my last month of high school, my regular patrols, and figuring out these new powers. The **_very_** last thing I need to worry about is my godmother's feelings.**_

Charles didn't have a response for that reasoning. It was true that she did have a lot to deal with, and Susan _had_ shown up completely unnecessarily. Despite his daughter's rudeness, he had to admit that she was right. Now was not the time for Susan to be trying to get to know Elizabeth.

"Come on, Angel. I'll walk you out," Buffy said, reaching out to take her boyfriend's hand. Angel took it and followed Buffy out of the room to the front door.

"Joyce," Charles turned to the other woman. "Would you excuse us for a moment? I need to talk to Susan about a few more things."

"Of course," Joyce replied, picking up the tea and coffee, since it seemed to be apparent that no one was going to have any. She looked over at Susan. "It was nice to meet you, Doctor McGee. I apologize for Buffy's behavior. She's not usually like this."

Susan only nodded quietly. Charles waited until Joyce had left the room before he turned back to Susan. "Susan, I'm glad that you still care enough to have come out here, even if you _did_ come because you were angry with me. I swear, I never intended to keep her from you. There's just so much that I still don't know or understand about Elizabeth's disappearance. But…" He hesitated, hoping that she wouldn't react badly to what he was about to say. "Susan, now is just the wrong time for all of this. You need to go back to Bayville. Elizabeth isn't ready to try to get to know you. She's still getting used to the idea that I'm her father. Adding a godmother on top of everything else…it's just too much, and I don't want to take the chance that I'll lose her."

Susan shook her head. "Charles, I don't understand. Why haven't you contacted the authorities? Your daughter's disappearance is still an open FBI investigation, even if they do consider it a cold case. Someone here _must_ know something!"

"I don't doubt that, Susan. But Elizabeth is eighteen. She's a legal adult, and I can't force her back into my custody. All I can try to do is try to get to know her, and hope I can find out how she got here on my own." He sighed. "Please, Susan. Go home, and I promise I will get Elizabeth to come out to New York somehow, and I'll convince her to meet with you and get to know you. I've already promised Moira the same. Please. Do this for me. I know you don't owe me anything after what I did, but I am asking you to help me not alienate my daughter when I've finally started to connect with her."

Susan hesitated…and then slowly nodded. "All right, Charles. I'll go. But I won't wait forever. There is still too much about this that I don't understand…and I don't trust how neat and pat everything seems to be."

"Susan…someday soon I hope to be able to tell you everything – when I understand more about what happened. Just…trust me for now. I'll keep in closer contact with you, and I'll be back in Bayville next week. I'll come to see you when I get back in town, and I'll try to explain everything that I've learned. Will that satisfy you?"

"For a while, Charles." She rose slowly to her feet. "Please don't let me down again Charles. I'm doing this for Lizzie as much as I am for you. This is the last chance that I can give you."

"I understand."

* * *

"Buffy, don't be too hard on your godmother. I think she means well, and if what your father has said about what happened to him in the wake of your kidnapping is true, it seems as if he hurt her very badly. I think she's as much in shock as anyone else," Angel said.

"Maybe, but it doesn't give her a right to come here acting like she owns everything, or that we owe her an explanation," Buffy turned away from Angel and looked out at the yard. It was still early, but not too early for vampires. She felt like she should be out patrolling, but now she was stuck having to deal with this mess.

"You're not wrong about your reasoning, Buffy, but I think you need to try to explain things to her." Angel approached her and gave her a hug. "Go in and talk to her, and then I'll walk her back to her hotel so she doesn't get attacked again. I have to go that way anyway."

"Thanks, Angel. I appreciate it. I just…I can't deal with anything more right now. Until the Ascension is past…I have to keep my focus on that. Then I'll worry about the other surprises that the powers have in store for me." Buffy turned and went back inside the house to find her father still talking quietly with her godmother.

"Angel has offered to walk you back to your hotel."

Her father and godmother looked up at her. Buffy sighed. "He's going that way to go home, and he'll make sure that you get there safely. You don't want to take a chance on being mugged again."

Susan nodded slowly. "I'd appreciate it. I don't know what that man wanted. He just came out of nowhere and grabbed me. If you and your friend hadn't come along…"

"Sunnydale's dangerous at night," Buffy replied. "It looks safe, but you know what they say about looks being deceiving? It's never been truer than in this town." She paused and sighed. "Look, I'm sorry about what I said earlier. I am glad to know about you, and if things were going better, I wouldn't hesitate to try to get to know you too…but this is just not a good time. I have a lot going on right now, what with graduation happening in less than a month. But…provided everything works out the way I want it to, I'm going to try to come to New York after graduation, and I would like to spend some time with you then. Would that be all right?"

Susan smiled. "I would like that, Eliz – Buffy. I would like that a great deal."

"It's settled then," her father added. "Susan…I'll call you in a few days and let you know how things are going, all right?"

When she nodded, Buffy smiled too. "Angel's ready to go whenever you are."

"It was good to meet you, Buffy. I'll look forward to seeing you this summer."

"Deal."

* * *

_Bayville, New York…_

Jean tapped quietly on the attic door. "Storm?" With her powers, she knew that the weather witch was inside, tending to her plants. The skylight on the roof made this room an ideal one for Storm's little conservatory – her little part of Africa here in New York.

She heard Storm approaching the door and a moment later it opened. "Jean? Is something wrong?"

"No, but I did want to talk to you for a minute, if you've got time," Jean replied.

"Certainly," Storm said, opening the door wider and stepping aside to let Jean into her little sanctum. She closed the door behind Jean and moved back over to where her plants were placed near the window. "What can I help you with?" With a wave of her hand, she conjured a small raincloud underneath her hand to water her plants.

"I was actually going to ask you what was wrong," Jean said quietly. "You and Logan have been really tense ever since we found out about the Professor's daughter. And last night…Kurt told me about the woman who showed up looking for the Professor and how angry she seemed."

Storm hesitated with her reply as she directed her tiny raincloud to the next group of plants. "I am a little worried," she finally admitted. "The Professor has pinned many of his hopes on his daughter – he has a chance to reclaim the family that he lost all those years ago. I don't want to see him hurt if they can't work things out. Whatever secret she has – Professor Xavier's kind heart won't allow him to stand aside."

Jean thought back to their mentor's strange behavior in the last week before he had told the rest of the school about his daughter's existence. He had been distant and somewhat detached from them – more than was normal. "He – he hasn't been himself lately," Jean admitted slowly, remembering how unprepared Professor Xavier had been when they had gone to see Buffy at her home.

Jean hadn't known the Professor for very long – less than a year, actually – but she greatly looked up to him. His poise and his control, not just with his telepathy, but in every facet of his life that she had seen, was something that she admired. He had always seemed so strong to her. He didn't let his crippled legs affect any part of his life, and he always held himself with dignity and remained calm, even when he was angry or disappointed. His control had always astounded her, from the moment that she had first met him.

But even more, he had always seemed so _sincere_, so devoted to the things and the people that he prized most. Jean hadn't failed to notice the way his every waking moment was dedicated to them and to his ideology that they would be able to introduce themselves as friends when the time finally came. But even in his dedication to them, there had always been something…distant, as if he feared getting too close. Jean had sensed it in his mind when he was teaching her how to use her powers, but she'd never been able to penetrate that part of his mind, because his barriers were too strong. Now, Jean thought she finally knew why and had finally solved the mystery.

After what had happened to his wife and daughter, he would fear losing his X-Men, which was why he was so stringent in training them, why he was careful about what he asked of them. He stayed distant to try to avoid the hurt if something did happen, but he _did_ care – about them, about other mutants who would appear in the future, and about the non-mutants who would be impacted by their existence. It was a delicate emotional balance that Charles Xavier walked every day, and Jean found herself admiring him all the more for his courage after everything that he had been through.

"We still need to stand by him, no matter what our personal fears might be," Storm cautioned her, dismissing the tiny raincloud with a wave of her hand. "I know that all of you have put your trust in the Professor, and now it's our turn to be there for him if he needs us. He's been alone for so very long – the X-Men need, above all else, to be ready to stand beside him throughout anything."

Jean nodded. "We will. I'll make sure that the others know too," the redheaded telepath said firmly. "He's given us so much…it's our turn to give back to him, in whatever way we can."

Storm nodded, just as the communications panel on the wall lit up. "_Storm? When you get a sec, come down to the Professor's study. I got somethin' you'll want ta see_," Logan's voice was rough and even more feral than normal – it was the tone he used when he was severely annoyed.

Storm walked over to the panel and pressed the button to acknowledge Logan's request. "I'll be down shortly, Logan." She turned back to Jean. "I'm sorry, my dear. It seems that Logan has need of me."

"That's all I needed, Storm," Jean said. "I just…I just wanted to make sure that I wasn't imagining things."

"You weren't, child. We all care about the Professor. All we can do is make sure that we're ready to help him if he needs us." Storm opened the door and stepped out, and Jean followed her. Storm pulled her door shut and together they went downstairs, where they parted ways, Jean to finish her homework and Ororo to head to the Professor's office to see what Logan had found.

She came in, closing the door behind her so that the students would know that they were not to be bothered. Storm was fairly certain that most of them were working on their homework anyway, but there was always the chance that one of them would need something – and since, like the Professor, they tried to always make themselves available to the students, when the Professor's study was closed, it was a signal that they didn't want to be disturbed for anything short of a real emergency.

"What did you find, Logan?" she asked as she noticed Logan sitting behind the Professor's desk, typing something on his computer.

"My contact got back to me," Logan grunted, the growling tone still in his voice. "He sent me the info I requested through the Prof's email account. Come take a look."

Intrigued, Storm rounded the Professor's desk and took a seat in the chair Logan had dragged up so she could study the screen, as he nimbly slid out of the way. With a tap of the key, he brought up the attached information that had come in via the Professor's email.

Ororo frowned as she studied the screen. At first glance, it seemed to just be columns and rows of random numbers. "What is this?"

"Data," Logan snorted. "They're crime stats from other towns that are similar in size to Bayville and Sunnydale. Most of them, far as I can tell, are closer to Bayville. The numbers are fairly low in the major crimes – again, just like Bayville. Out of all of them, not a single one comes close to approaching the rates posted by Sunnydale."

"But there's no explanation?" Ororo asked, her eyes running over the numbers. Now that she knew what to look for, she could see that Logan was right – not that she doubted his conclusions.

"Not really. There's some stuff at the bottom about the police in Sunnydale being corrupt, and a theory of gang violence, but I'm not buyin' it. There's still more to be uncovered here – and now I owe the man a favor. He'll collect when I'm least expectin' it too."

"I think we should call Charles," Ororo said quietly. "He might have found out more from Buffy, or from other people in the town. There's just too much about this that doesn't make sense. And…I'm worried for him."

"For Chuck?" Logan asked. "If there's one thing that he's good at, it's keeping his cool."

"I don't know, Logan. The students know that something isn't right about all of this, and they're going to start questioning things. Charles has pinned all of his hopes on his daughter accepting him and on their ability to forge the relationship that he wants with her. If she rejects him, or if things don't work out the way he wants, I fear that it would shatter him – and if that happens, he'll lose the X-Men, because he just won't care anymore."


End file.
